


A World Alone

by WritingCactus



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Bullying, Car Accidents, Field Trip, Fire, Friends to Lovers, Growing Up Together, Happy Ending, High School, Hospitals, I promise, Imaginary Friends, M/M, Magic, Minor Character Death, Minor threats of violence, Not as serious as it sounds, Phandom Big Bang 2017, Pining, Small Towns, Some angst, beware the rich white boys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-31
Updated: 2018-05-31
Packaged: 2019-01-23 20:43:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 37,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12516164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WritingCactus/pseuds/WritingCactus
Summary: Alternatively: What to Do When Your Imaginary Friend isn't So Imaginary: A Guide by Phil LesterDan has been Phil's best friend since they were little kids, and it's hardly ever mattered that he's only imaginary. They stick together through facing first grade, growing up, and getting a tree house of their very own. When Phil loses his dad in a car crash, he only relies on Dan more. High school is just a little bit easier together, and he can almost ignore his growing crush on Dan and the feeling that something's about to go terribly wrong. But when Dan is revealed to be more than either of them ever imagined, it's too late to keep pretending.





	1. It's What's Inside that Counts, Even if You Don't Have a Body

**Author's Note:**

> My fic for the Phandom Big Bang 2017! I put more effort into this fic than anything else I've written, through my bad time management to my laptop charger almost dying to hours and hours of editing. Hell, I even put off watching the Halloween baking video to make sure this was ready to post, that's how dedicated I am. I hope you all enjoy this fic as much as I've enjoyed writing it!   
> EDIT: A song was written for this fic and now it has a playlist! Both are in chapter eleven, but be warned for spoilers, since there is a list of scenes that moments in the original song correlate to for people that have already read this fic.

Phil Lester stared nervously at the playground in front of him, clutching tightly at his mother’s hand. It was full of other kids his age, running and laughing and playing with siblings or friends. They all seemed to know each other, and he wasn’t sure that begging his mom to take him to the playground was such a good idea now. He didn’t want to walk all the way back home already and disappoint her, though. Being brave would have to do, Phil decided, trying to feel excited instead of shy. He let go of his mom’s hand, smiling at her before running to climb the jungle gym. From way up there, he could see the whole playground! He stretched as high as he could, bringing his hand to his forehead to shield his eyes from the sun and looking around so he could pretend to be a pirate, surveying the mighty seas from the crow’s nest of his dreaded ship. Instead of waves, there was worn tire shreds, and instead of dolphins jumping majestically from the water, other kids laughed and yelled. There was a game of tag going on, and he watched as one girl chased her friend up the slide. He felt brave enough to try and join in. But just as he was about to climb down, the girl’s mom called her away. Sighing, he started considering going home again when a boy sitting all by himself on a bench right at the edge of the playground caught his eye. He looked a little bit sad, all alone on the little bench. Phil decided right then and there that the two of them were going to be best friends. He jumped down clumsily, running over as fast as his little legs could take him and talking excitedly as soon as possible. 

“Hi, I’m Phil! What’s your name?” He asked, skidding to a stop in front of the boy, who looked up, his eyes wide with surprise. 

“I’m Dan,” He answered, looking a whole lot like he wanted to say something else. When he didn’t, Phil brushed it off and put out his hand, just the way his mother had shown him. 

“Nice to meet you, Dan! Do you wanna play with me?” When Dan nodded, Phil smiled, grabbing his hand and pulling him towards the slide. It turned out that Dan was actually very talkative, once they started playing. Together, they stormed the elegant, well guarded “castle”, which had previously been the climber, to defeat the monstrous dragon that was hoarding all of the gold. When they’d managed to make it to the top, sneaking past the brainwashed knights and slipping right beneath the wicked king’s nose, Dan even agreed to spare the dragon and have it join them on their quests instead when Phil changed his mind and decided that it was really a good dragon and that it was only trying to help. They claimed the imaginary treasure for their own and split it between them, before crossing the monkey bars above treacherous, shark-infested waters. By the time it was late afternoon and most of the other kids had gone home for an early dinner, they had already become the closest friends in the way that only little kids can. 

Phil was exhausted, flopping down with a satisfying thump onto the soft grass next to Dan, who was breathing just as hard as he was. The other boy was smiling, his face flushed from running and jumping and climbing for hours, and Phil was happy that he had managed to shake the sadness he’d had away. All too soon, his mom walked over, signaling that it was time for them to go back home. He jumped up when he saw her, forgetting his disappointment that they’d have to leave the park in favor of being excited to tell her all about Dan. 

“Mom, this is Dan! He’s my new friend, and we played adventurers together!” He exclaimed, nearly bouncing up and down with excitement. His mother’s eyes swept right past where Dan was standing and she looked confused, but she was smiling kindly again before Phil had time to wonder.

“That’s nice! Would your friend Dan like to come over for dinner?” She asked, and he turned to check.

“Do you have to ask your parents?” Dan shook his head no, quiet and shy now that Phil’s mom was with them. He didn’t bother wondering why the other boy didn’t seem to have anyone waiting to walk him home for very long, instead challenging him to a race back to the house. It was a little odd how his mom only spoke to Phil, but there were much more important things to think about, like being the first one home. All their tiredness faded as they sprinted down the sidewalk, Phil’s feet hitting the pavement hard as Dan laughed from behind him all the way there. 

Once they could breathe without gasping, he lead Dan to his room. Giving a grand tour was his favorite part of having people over, and he proudly displayed a row of plastic dinosaurs he’d gotten for his birthday earlier that year while his mom finished making dinner. Dan seemed just as excited about his toys as he was, even if he only knew some of the names, and he listened eagerly as Phil rattled off each one. It was nice to have such a good listener around. Just as they were deciding what dinosaurs would be friends with which, they were called back downstairs to eat. Dan hesitated for a split second, but he hurried down the stairs after him anyway. Phil tore down the steps, jumping down the last few to slam onto the floor below. His mother, who would have normally told him to be a little more careful, simply shook her head fondly, seeming to sense how excited he was. She’d set out a plate for him, herself, and his dad, who’d be getting home from work soon, but not one for Dan.

“Phil, would your friend like anything to eat?” His mother asked, just before he was going to complain about the missing plate.

“No, thanks,” Dan answered, loud enough that she should have heard, but she didn’t respond, looking expectantly at Phil.

After a second of confusion, he said, “He says he doesn’t want anything, but thanks anyway.” Now, that was weird. He thought Dan might know what was going on, but he only shrugged, shaking his head. Deciding that solving the mystery could wait until after dinner, he turned his attention to his plate. As he ate, he told his mom all about their adventures earlier that day, barely touching his dinosaur-shaped chicken nuggets with how much he was talking, even though they were his favorite. Dan didn’t say anything almost the whole time, answering with only one or two words when asked a question, and his mom kept looking to Phil to answer for him. It was weird, but just when he was about to ask about it, his dad came through the door. Phil ran to hug him, laughing as he was picked up and spun around in the air.

“Dad! Dad! I made a new friend!” He squealed. “His name is Dan, and we played together at the park, and then Mom let him come home to eat dinner with us!”

“That’s great, Phil! Did he go upstairs?” His dad asked, his eyes going right past where Dan was sitting uncomfortably. Phil frowned, turning to him as he continued to stare down at the table.

“What do you mean? He’s right there,” Phil said, pointing to Dan and wondering if his dad was playing some sort of game, and if his mom was in on it too.

When he turned back to his parents, though, she was pulling his dad into the living room, saying something about having him help clean up. Even if Phil hadn't already known that something was fishy, there wasn't even anything to clean in the dining room. With that in mind, he slid out his seat as quietly as possible, gesturing for Dan to follow as he crept towards the door his parents were behind. He pressed his ear to the cold wood, filled with both curiosity to solve the mystery of his parents, and excitement at the opportunity to sneak around like a spy from the movies. He knew that listening in on conversations was rude, but what if it was important? Dan mirrored him, still not meeting his eyes as they both held their breath. 

“...Am I missing something? I thought Phil brought a friend home, but I asked where he was, and the two of you look at me like I’m crazy,” He heard his dad say, clearly confused.

“I’m sorry about that, honey, but I think Dan is Phil’s new imaginary friend. I thought it’d be best to go along with it, for his sake,” his mother explained. She said something else after that, but it sounded like boring adult stuff, and Phil stopped listening. He turned to Dan, who still wouldn’t meet his eyes, and stared. He looked pretty real. But his mom wouldn’t lie, and, besides, if Dan really was imaginary, then how weird everyone else was being made sense. He worked really, really hard not to poke him, just to see if his hand would go right through, like with ghosts in movies.

“Are you really just pretend?” He whispered, finally getting him to look up.

“I think I might be,” he mumbled, shrugging and scuffing one shoe against the floor, “Nobody else has been able to see me. I didn’t tell you ‘cause you’d think I was weird, or just making it up.”

“I don’t think it’s weird, I think it’s super cool! I’ve never had an imaginary friend before. And that means you can spend the night, right? If you can’t talk to anyone, then you don’t have to ask!” Phil exclaimed, grinning when that cheered Dan up.

“We can have a sleepover!” He said, beaming, and they did. In fact, they had sleepovers every night for almost the whole rest of the summer. Dan didn’t have anywhere to go back to, and Phil’s parents were okay with a friend sleeping over every night when that friend was pretend. During the day, they’d go on errands with his mom or do crafts or explore the neighborhood, but no matter what, there never seemed to be enough time to do everything they wanted. Every night was a game of asking for just five more minutes, but his parents always won in the end. After dinner, they’d curl up on Phil’s bedroom floor, talking and playing with his toys for hours.

Dan was great at pretend games, becoming a prince or a pirate or an explorer with only a costume made of whatever was laying around and a second’s notice. Sometimes, Phil would just sit and watch him act out whatever story they were telling, shouting out suggestions of what should happen next. Most of the time, though, he’d join in, grabbing his own tablecloth-cape or wooden sword or the sailor hat his mom had made him out newspaper and falling into the adventure. His bedroom carpet was the soaring sea one night, a quicksand filled jungle the next, and a kingdom whose subjects were his plastic dinosaurs, benevolently ruled by the two of them, the night after that. When they were too worn out to keep playing, they’d clear out a place on the floor and flop down on it, out of breath and smiling. They’d talk about their pretend adventures and where they would go next, or the looming threat of kindergarten when summer ended. 

Phil told Dan all the same stories his grandmother had told him the last time she’d visited, of how strange things would happen in their little town, like houses appearing in the middle of a street as though they’d been there forever, or the old library that was impossible for anyone from out of town to find, or a gap in the woods at the edge of Eighth Street that led to somewhere else. She’d shared all the stories whispered by friends late at night and laughed at in the daylight with him, of some dirt path that lead to nowhere, or a strange figure that could only be seen by street lamps at night, or a spot where none of the birds ever sang. His mother had sighed from the doorway when he’d retold the stories, assuring him that his grandma was just trying to scare him. Still, Dan ate them up, wide eyed and cross legged on the carpet, begging for just one more until it was almost past bedtime.

When it was dark out and his dad finally came and knocked on the door to get him, Dan would stay behind and look through the latest comic book while Phil had a bath and got ready for bed. When he came back, they’d keep talking until his parents came in, kissing Phil on the top of the head and telling them both goodnight. He could tell it made Dan sad sometimes, not to have his own parents to hug him and tell him not to let the bedbugs bite, but he was always happy again before Phil could bring it up. His mom would turn off the light on her way out, and they’d crawl under the covers on his bed and talk in sleepy whispers until they both fell asleep. Phil didn’t mind that it felt a little cold when he accidentally kicked his leg straight through Dan’s in the middle of the night, it just meant that he got to use more blankets. It was nice to have a friend with him when he fell asleep and first thing when he woke up, especially after the nights they told ghost stories.

On Fridays, his mom would bring him hot chocolate, and he’d sip it while they talked and laughed. His mother had offered some to Dan the first few times, but she stopped when Phil always shook his head no in response when he said no, telling him later that he couldn’t drink it in the first place. It was a surprising reminder that his friend didn’t need to eat, even though he had been sitting quietly through meals all summer.

It was easy to forget that Dan was imaginary. He only noticed it for the fact that his hands sometimes slid right through a toy he was trying to pick up and how strangers sometimes looked at Phil funny when they were playing together in the yard, reminding him that he was invisible to everyone else. It didn’t matter that he was only pretend, really. He still wanted to play with Phil and hear his stories, he still made faces at the brussel sprouts even if he didn’t eat them, he still scowled and pouted when they had a disagreement, only to forget it as soon as something more exciting happened. He was real in all the ways that were important. Phil didn’t think twice before deciding Dan could stay as long as he wanted. Dan had been thrilled to hear it, but sometimes he still asked to make sure Phil wanted him around, saying he didn’t want to bother him. He promised that he was happy to have a friend, but the look of uncertainty that wouldn’t leave Dan’s eyes made him determined to prove it.

It was about halfway through the summer when he started pestering his dad to build a treehouse in the old maple tree right by his bedroom window. That way, Dan could have his own space and be sure he wasn’t bothering Phil, but, most importantly, they’d have a treehouse! They could put whatever they wanted in it, make it their very own, and maybe even camp out in it. He was practically buzzing with excitement at the idea, and the few weeks it took for his dad to build it seemed to take forever. They watched, enraptured as it came together piece by piece. His dad had done construction work when he was younger, and he was happy to work on it when he got home from work and on the weekends, since it made Phil so happy.

It was thrilling to think about how it would turn out. Dan, who was just as excited as he was, focused extra hard not to let the pencil slip through his hand as they spent hours drawing designs for the treehouse. Phil’s included a pool, complete with a waterslide that went directly to his room, a full kitchen, and a climbing wall, while Dan’s had a trick door that lead to a secret lair, a trampoline, and a balcony. In the end, even though none of those things made it in, the treehouse was more perfect than either of them could have dreamed up.

The Saturday it was going to be finished, Phil’s mom dragged them to the zoo so they would stop begging to go up in it before his dad had done the finishing touches. They spent all day there, looking at all the different animals and eating melty ice cream, and it was so much fun that they had forgotten about the treehouse by the time they were back in the car. Dan fell asleep right away, his face squashed up against the window, and Phil had to shake him awake when they pulled into the driveway. He was the first one to notice his dad standing out on the front lawn, wearing an old, paint-stained shirt and smiling, and it hit him. He grabbed Dan’s hand, yelling with excitement as they raced around the house to the backyard. There, in all its glory, was their newly finished treehouse. They’d seen it being built every day for weeks, but that just made it even better now that it was done.

The treehouse was nestled in the higher branches of the maple tree, with one trunk going through an opening in it and out the roof. There was a little wooden ladder coming from the gap that served as a door, with a few wonderfully lopsided holes cut into the wood for windows. The slanted roof was painted red, while the walls were plain wood, but his dad explained that they could paint them themselves if they wanted. The inside was even better. It was one big room, empty except for the tree trunk cutting through it, and it was all their own. He could peak out of the windows as long as he was on tiptoes, able to see what felt like the whole world. Later, he’d appreciate how carefully his dad had sanded the whole thing so they wouldn’t get any splinters and carefully made sure not to leave any nails exposed. For now, though, he was thrilled by the lack of furniture and decorations in their new treehouse.

They could put whatever they wanted in it, or at least what they could get their hands on. After a little more investigating, Dan got his attention, gesturing excitedly to a string hanging from the ceiling that they hadn’t noticed before, apparently too overjoyed to talk. He tugged on it, and a slat of wood swung down and hung there, revealing a patch of the evening sky. His mom would make it very clear later when she explained the rules that they weren’t allowed to use it to go up on the roof, just to see the stars. Phil bounced up and down with excitement, scrambling back down the rope ladder with Dan on his heels to run over to where his parents stood.

“Dad, Dad, it’s perfect!” he yelled, almost slamming into his dad’s side in his rush to hug him. “It’s got a ladder and everything, and we can bring out the stuff from my room and decorate it, and there’s a hole to look at the sky through-” His dad laughed, reaching down to ruffle his hair and lift him up into a hug.

“Now, Phil, I--” He started, before his mom elbowed him gently in the side as a reminder. His dad wasn’t very good at remembering Dan, but he tried his best. “Uh, I mean, I expect you boys to be very careful in this treehouse, okay? I don’t want you to get hurt. So play safely, or else I might decide to move all my stuff up there. Do you understand?” He asked, placing his hands on his hips and looking stern for a moment.

“Yes, we’ll be safe!” Phil answered, Dan nodding along beside him, being as sincere as possible so they wouldn’t lose the treehouse. His dad smiled after a moment, his face softening as he set Phil down.

After that, they were back into the treehouse, being extra-careful as they planned out what they’d move in from Phil’s room and where’d it go. Dan said that the plastic green telescope they’d been eyeing at the toy store would before perfect for seeing the whole neighborhood, and Phil offered to ask if they could nab the plain string of christmas lights from the basement to see in the treehouse in the dark. His mom had to yell that dinner was ready at least three times before they were willing to come down, the plans that they were making were just so exciting, even if each one was a little less realistic than the last.

From that night onward, once he was getting sleepy, Dan would say goodnight and leave for the treehouse, which had become his space without either of them having to talk about it. Phil didn’t mind, since they shared it just fine during the day, and he had his own comfortable room to sleep in. Dan said he didn’t mind not having any blankets when he’d offered, since he didn’t really feel the cold anyway. Still, he’d creep back into the house and under Phil’s blankets if he had a bad dream or got scared, which happened pretty often until they finally set up the white christmas lights. He was more than a little afraid of the dark, but he wouldn’t admit it, and Phil decided not to tease him, at least for the moment.

The rest of the summer was wrapped up in filling the treehouse with anything they could possibly get their hands on, from tons of plastic animals to colorful pillows to the telescope they’d been eyeing, and even a small stash of food that had to be thrown out immediately when just about a whole colony of ants swarmed it. The days flew by for Phil, who was having the best summer ever, and it had more to do with Dan than a new treehouse, though that definitely helped. They worked on the treehouse, explored the park, and stayed up late into the night talking.

They didn’t usually talk about how Dan was imaginary, since it made the both of them think way too much for the summer, but sometimes it came up anyway. From what Dan remembered (the whole thing had been a little blurry), he’d had woken up maybe a week before he met Phil, with no one able to see or hear him. He’d had no idea what was happening at time, but they decided that Phil must have started imagining him then, without realising it. After that, their talk moved to other, much easier things, and Phil decided that he really didn’t like talking about it anymore than Dan did. It was one of his only reminders that Dan wasn’t real, since his dad was getting better at talking to both of them instead of just him and his mom eventually stopped offering food to Dan when he never accepted.

Just when things were settling into a routine, summer drew to an end both faster and slower than what seemed possible. It was with absolute certainty that Phil announced that Dan would be going to kindergarten with him, obviously. It wouldn’t make sense for him to just sit around the house all day, and besides, they’d have each other to play with if all the other kids were mean. His mother insisted that wouldn’t happen, but he still caught the worry in her sigh and the way her smile dropped for a moment. It didn’t worry him long, though. He had much more important things to think about, like how to make the most of the last, brightest days of summer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, I completely gave up on this fic being accurate medically, just so you know.


	2. Real Problems with Imaginary Friends

Kindergarten was scary at first, especially the very first day, but he had Dan. It was much easier to see a familiar face, even if it wasn’t long before they were making friends with other kids anyway. None of them could see him, of course, but some had their own imaginary friends that were just as invisible to Phil. He was extra careful to remember all their names and to say hello and goodbye. It made the kids he could see beam, and Dan seemed overjoyed when they all started doing the same for him, and kindergarten suddenly seemed a lot easier.

After a few weeks of the scary new environment and new kids and new teachers, things settled into a happy rhythm of waking up early to get to school, spending the day learning about bugs or the weather or the alphabet, coming home tired, having a snack, and playing until dinner time. Phil was happier than ever to have a friend, and even happier that it was Dan, and he made sure to tell him that. He was his best friend in the whole wide world. Sure, sometimes one of the other kids would tease him for having an imaginary friend or call him weird, but it didn’t bother Phil. At least, not at first.

By the time kindergarten was coming to an end, most of the other kids’ imaginary friends had left, some to be replaced with new ones, others simply gone. Phil didn’t think much of it, instead looking forwards to the promise of summer. The treehouse had just about everything they could want (and get away with) already, and they were planning to sleep out in it as much as possible. They hadn’t been allowed to actually camp as much as they wanted during the school year, since bedtime was sooner, so instead they made plans for when they could. Phil’s dad said he could get Phil’s sleeping bag up from the basement and that he could roast some marshmallows for them over the stove, so it’d really feel like camping, and he could hardly contain his excitement when summer came and it was finally time. Sure, the floor of the treehouse was still hard under a layer of pillows, the mosquitos were annoying, and he still had to sleep inside most of the time, but every time they did sleep out there was something magical. Staying up late into the night with nothing to see by but fairy lights and flashlights, telling ghost stories until dawn, and huddling together when something made a noise outside was like nothing he’d ever felt. It was a whole world all their own, wrapped up in a bubble of darkness, and Phil wouldn’t give it up for anything.

By the middle of the summer, he could sometimes forget that Dan was only imaginary, especially when they spent the days playing around the house and his mom asked what the two of them were getting up to with a smile. His dad was getting better and better at talking to Dan too, and he’d appreciate how much effort he made to keep Phil happy later. His other friends from kindergarten would come over sometimes, or he’d be invited to their houses, and playing with them was just as fun. There were twice as many games to play and more characters to be and new places to explore together. They all did their best to play with Dan, too, and they usually waited for Phil to translate what he wanted to say. None of them said he was weird for having Dan around, since he was their friend, too.

First grade was a little different. It was even scarier than kindergarten and in a completely new building, with new rules, new stuff to learn, and even more new, intimidating kids. It was harder to make friends, since some of them already knew each other, and it didn’t help that Phil was suddenly very nervous. None of his old friends were going to the same school, and he was realizing for the first time how much scarier that made everything. Still, a few other kids were in the same boat, and they were easy enough to become friends with, once he had the courage to say hello. Plus, the first few days were just getting to know each other, which made it a little easier.

Dan was right there with him the whole time, but it wasn’t until the third day of school that he mentioned that he had an imaginary friend. He wasn’t sure what to expect, but most kids didn’t seem to care, though a few got tired of talking to Dan when Phil had to repeat everything back to them. He was a little dejected at first, but quickly forgot it when one girl introduced an imaginary friend of her own, and they kept playing. Since there were no extra seats and Phil was too shy to ask the teacher for one, Dan made himself comfortable on his desk, leaning over his work and doing his best to help when he could. Things got easier from there, even if there were a few odd comments and looks from the kids who pretended they were grown up already about still having an imaginary friend. It was easy to brush off when Dan smiled and his mom always said goodbye to both of them when she dropped them off at school.

In fact, when the problems started, it was with a teacher, not a kid. Him and Dan were talking and laughing about something under the little tree on the playground during recess, since it was their favorite spot. But the smile fell from his face when he saw one of the scarier teachers, Ms. Piermont, staring at him from across the blacktop, clearly glaring and with her hands on her hips. He turned back to Dan, who looked as confused as he felt, and tried to keep his voice quiet when they started talking again, always glancing over his shoulder to make sure she wasn’t still watching. That night, she called his parents and asked them to come in after school the next day.

The classroom was much less fun when it wasn't full of kids yelling and playing, Phil had decided, and it was especially less fun when he was being stared down by a teacher. He sat, swinging his feet slightly, his mom and dad next to him. Dan, to his right, was scrunching his face up in concentration as he tried to make his feet float an inch or so above the ground, a trick he’d been working on all week. When he turned back to her, Ms. Piermont was looking at him with disdain. He stared back.

“Phil’s not in trouble, is he?” his mom asked, breaking the silence. “You didn’t mention why you wanted to talk to us, and I know he’d never cause trouble on purpose--”

“Mrs. Lester, please. Your son hasn’t caused any trouble, in fact he’s a very good student, but some of his behavior is... concerning. He has a habit of talking to no one in particular, and the other day I saw him laughing by himself during recess.” She explained. His mom’s face softened in relief, and his dad even chuckled.

“Oh, thank goodness! I thought he was in trouble. Phil has an imaginary friend he’s quite fond of,” While his mother still treated Dan as if he were real as much as she could, he’d told her that he knew he was only imaginary.

“I thought he would have mentioned Dan by now, he talks about him so much. You know, he’s always telling me stories about something funny Dan said, or that Dan wants to go to the park today, it’s almost as if he’s a real friend,” She laughed in that way parents do when talking about something funny their kid does, but Ms. Piermont looked less than amused.

With her enormous glasses and scowl, Phil thought she looked quite like an angry bird, and he resisted the urge to laugh, but he wasn’t happy for long.

“That’s exactly the problem. Most kids grow out of imaginary friends by his age, and the ones that haven’t certainly don’t talk to them and laugh out loud during school. It’s very strange behavior. I just think you should be concerned, is all,” She spoke as though all of this was obvious, and that it was ridiculous that his parents hadn’t thought of it themselves.

“Now, I don’t think that’s necessary. He’s always been a very creative kid, and he’s not disturbing the class, right?” His dad asked, and Phil was starting to feel just as invisible as Dan was. He wasn’t used to people talking about him like he wasn’t there, especially not his parents. Even more than that, there was a sense unease building somewhere inside him. Was it really weird that Dan was still around, as real as he’d been when they’d first met at the park? Should he have grown out of him been now? Was it weird that he’d had an imaginary friend in the first place? The only good thing about the conversation was that it gave him something to focus on besides his own worries. Still, the feeling remained.

“He may be an imaginative child, but I’ve taught for many, many years, and I know what’s usual for children his age. It’s possible that he’s missing out on real friendships in his daily life, or that he has trouble socialising.” When his mom tried to interrupt, Ms. Piermont only put her hand up and firmly pushed on. 

"I know you may think otherwise, but I suggest encouraging him to make friends with other kids his age, or possibly taking him to go see someone. I truly do want the best for your child, Mr. and Mrs. Lester, so please consider what I’ve said. Goodnight.” It really didn’t sound like she wanted the best for him, but the conversation was clearly over. Phil felt sick.

The ride home was nothing but a blur. His mom had tried to reassure him, but all he could manage in response was a shrug. The car fell silent again. Phil didn’t dare look to where Dan was sitting next to him, in case he’d never been there at all. Suddenly, all he wanted to do was disappear into his bed and sleep until everything was okay again.

Dan must’ve understood, because he mumbled something about being in the treehouse and was gone the second they got home. His parents weren’t so sympathetic, pulling him into the kitchen before he could make it to the stairs.

“Phil, we’d like to talk to you for a second,” His dad announced, clearly determined, and he gave up on getting away.  


“What that teacher said doesn’t matter, sweetie,” His mom assured him, leaning against the counter. She was clearly annoyed with Ms. Piermont’s actions even through her gentle tone, and it was a relief to have someone on his side.

“It’s perfectly normal for kids your age to have imaginary friends like Dan, and if anyone says otherwise, you can always talk to us. Besides, you shouldn’t worry about being normal. Being happy is much more important, and if having Dan as your friend makes you happy, then what other people think doesn’t matter. Especially not if they’re as mean as old Ms. Piermont,” She winked at him, and he couldn’t help but smile a little.

“Phil, your mother is right, which is practically a miracle-” His dad teased, and even though she glared daggers at him, she was smiling as he backtracked.

“I mean, which is totally normal. But what I’m saying is that you can be as weird and creative as you want as long as you’re happy. And, well, safe. We don’t want you to get into any trouble, but we do want you to have fun, okay?” His dad patted him on the shoulder, trying his best to be encouraging, and Phil felt much better.

“Okay, Dad. I won’t get into trouble, I promise!” He said, beaming up at his parents.

“I’m certainly glad to hear that,” His mom answered, pulling him into a hug. “Now, go get ready for bed, it’s getting late. We’ll be up to say goodnight in a bit.” Phil nodded, dashing towards the stairs, eager to talk to Dan now that he knew it wasn’t so weird. He was still a little self conscious about having an imaginary friend, but he also knew that his parents would stand up for him if he needed it. Plus, he wanted to see how Dan’s attempts at floating were going. But just as he was running up the steps, Phil felt a tap on his shoulder, and turned to see his dad. He smiled and held out one of the fancy, iced cookies mom had made for a PTA meeting the next day.

“I got you a treat before bed, but don’t tell your mother” He whispered, and Phil grabbed the cookie, pretending to zip his lips and giving him a hug as thanks before darting up the stairs. He was glad that his dad was trying so hard to make him feel better, especially if he got a cookie out of it.

He'd already crammed the whole thing into his mouth by the time he made it to his room, knowing Dan wouldn't want it anyway. Phil got ready for bed extra fast, waiting patiently until his parents came by to say goodnight, both of them hugging him just a little longer than usual, but he didn’t mind. After laying, frozen, in bed for what felt like forever until the sound of footsteps from downstairs stopped and his parents settled in, he slipped out from under his covers. Watching the night outside light up once he’d plugged in the cord was one of his favorite parts, plus it let Dan know he was coming. He felt jittery and buzzing from excitement like always, and Phil had to stomp himself from bouncing around and making noise.

He tugged the window open to the cool night air, standing on his toes to push it up all the way. The sound of crickets poured into the room like a wave, and he waited once more, holding his breath. After a moment, the rope ladder they’d spent a month’s allowance on came flying towards him. He just barely managed to grab the bottom run, pull it into his room, and hook it securely onto the edge of the windowsill. Sometimes, it would take a few tries before they got it right, the cheap wood clanking swinging back to the treehouse and clanking into it.

He took a deep breath, trying to keep his excitement in check before beginning the climb over. The treehouse window closest to his room was just barely high up enough that the ladder was, well, more of a ladder than a bridge, but it was pretty close. Carefully, he pulled himself out of the house and across the ladder, closing his hands as tightly as he could on each rung.

Climbing slowly through the dark and working very hard not to look down, with his heart pounding in his chest and the cold air stinging his lungs, felt like adventure. Like the adventures that a nicer teacher than Ms. Piermont read to them after lunch on Wednesdays, full of mysteries, heroes, bad guys, and surprises that always turned out okay in the end. He knew, most of the time, that his life wasn’t that exciting, but this always felt different. It seemed, right then, that all of that could be his, could be theirs. That they already had a whole adventure between the two of them, even if it faded with the light and noise of the day.

Finally, he pulled himself up through the window and into the welcoming little room that made up the treehouse. Dan had already set out the pillows and spare blanket that Phil slept on, and he was sitting expectantly on the yellow plastic table that they’d dragged up from the basement. Well, technically he was floating on it, but Phil decided to be excited about that later.

It wasn’t often that they slept in the treehouse, especially on school nights, but this time seemed important enough to risk getting in trouble. Phil had guessed that his parents already knew, anyway. It was hard to miss the fairy lights, and even when he tried for his best spy-like stealth, it was really hard not to make noise while clinging to the rope ladder with every bit of strength he had. They’d never said anything about it, though, so Phil decided that they must be at least a little bit okay with it.

Still, sneaking around was part of the fun in the first place, so they kept on creeping around and talking in hushed whispers, even if it wasn’t really necessary. Neither of them spoke now, though, and Phil realized he had no idea what to say after what happened at school. Still, anything was better than nothing.

“Mom and Dad say it’s normal for me to still have an imaginary friend, and that I shouldn’t worry about it,” He tried, and Dan’s face brightened instantly.

“So does that mean you still want to be friends?” He asked hopefully. “If you don’t though, I’ll understand, ‘cause I don’t want to embarrass you or anything.”

“Of course I still want to be friends! You’re my best friend in the whole world, and that’s not going to change,” He assured, feeling confident after talking to his parents. It wasn’t long before they were talking and laughing again like normal, staying up late into the night to stare at the stars through the gap in the roof and testing Dan’s new floating abilities. Phil only wished that confidence would last forever.

Even though he tried to brush it off, the other kids’ comments about him needing to grow up or the way Ms. Piermont still stared at him when he talked to Dan got under his skin, made him feel like there was something wrong. He didn’t mention it to anyone, instead doing his best to smile and ignore it. Summer was the easiest, where they could go into their own little world where what people thought didn’t matter. But school had to start again eventually, and Phil found himself dreading it more than ever. Dan really was his best friend, and he hated that other people made it hard for him to know that without feeling like he was strange somehow.

All of the other kids, even the nice ones, had long since forgotten, grown out of, or abandoned their imaginary friends. At least they acted like it during school, and asking would just make him look even weirder. One day, a kid who’d caught Phil talking to Dan after school tripped him and then asked why his friend didn’t help him.

He ignored him, managing to push down the lump in his throat even though his knee was scratched and bleeding. What he couldn’t ignore was the way Dan looked as he watched Phil, whose back was pressed against the cracked linoleum of the school bathroom, clean the blood off his knee with wet paper towels while lunch started outside. His whole face was strained even though he was looking away, and his fists were clenched tight enough that his knuckles were a pasty, and it made him feel all twisted up inside. He looked away, clenching his teeth to ignore the cold sting as he wiped away the blood.

“Phil, I’m sorry--” Dan started, putting a cold hand on Phil’s shoulder in a way that should’ve been comforting. It wasn’t. He jerked away, breathing hard and moving so fast that his elbow slammed painfully into the wall with a thud. Dan pulled his hand back like he’d been burned, and all that was left was silence as they stared at each other. The faded blue walls and white tile of the bathroom seemed like they were closing in, about to swallow him whole. There was nothing left to say.

After that, there was no stopping it. Dan didn’t come into his room in the afternoons, and Phil didn’t visit the treehouse at night, and they weren’t talking anymore. It felt like there was static between them, like they were speaking different languages into a tin-can telephone with a cut string.

He wanted, more than anything, to talk to Dan and promise that he didn’t care what his classmates and teachers thought, wanted to laugh and talk and play like they always did, but he couldn’t. It was always the wrong time, or the wrong words, or the wrong feelings. Sometimes, Phil would catch the sad look on Dan’s face when he thought he wasn’t looking, but he didn’t know where to start with making it go away. One day, he went to school alone for the first time in years.

Without Dan, making friends was like climbing a mountain. Sure, he could play with a few other kids and have fun for a little bit, but he couldn’t talk to them about anything important, and he just ended up missing Dan even more. It was silly, to miss someone who was only a few words away, but it felt like they might as well have been an ocean apart. Besides, everyone was already better friends with someone else than they were with him, and it seemed impossible to make any new friends so late in the year. Eventually, he gave up, focusing on his work and trying to ignore the silence and the purpling bruise on his elbow.

One day, Phil woke up to emptiness. He was alone. Not just while getting ready to go to school or during the classes, but in his room when he got home and in the treehouse when he climbed into it after finishing his homework in silence. The fairy lights had been turned off and the usually messy stash of furniture and toys had been left as orderly as possible, neater than they’d ever been, and terribly, terribly wrong. It felt empty, like no one had ever been there at all, like it wasn’t full of life and memories and adventure. The silence was deafening as he sat on the floor and squeezed his eyes shut as hard as he could, trying to feel for any sign of Dan. Phil stayed up there until it was pitch black out and his dad had called him inside more times than he wanted to count, hoping that he’d show up out of nowhere and things would magically go back to the way they were. Of course, nothing changed.

That night, he went to bed with a gaping hole opening his chest, clinging tight to the thought that he’d wake up and it would all be a bad dream. Dan had only been gone a day, and, with how much time they’d been spending apart, it wouldn’t have been weird for him to get some fresh air or something. Really, it should’ve been easy to reassure himself that everything would be fine, at least for one night, but Phil couldn’t. He’d known from the moment he woke up that morning that something wasn’t right, that things were changing, and not for the better. It was crystal clear, no matter how much he wanted to be wrong. That night, he dreamed of empty hallways and silence and the emptiness in his chest getting bigger and bigger, until it ate him whole.

Dan didn’t come back. Impossibly, painfully, slowly, time went on. Everything was different and nothing changed. He still hardly talked at school, still did his homework in boring silence, still wished for adventure before he fell asleep at night. But at the same time, there was no one to wait out the night with him when the familiar shapes of his room turned into faces in the dark, no one to argue over what movie to watch with, no comforting presence to sit with him, whether they were talking or not.

He had lost his chance to make things right with Dan, his chance to apologize and do better. Phil had pushed him away, and now he couldn’t bring him back. No matter how many times he closed his eyes and tried to imagine Dan sitting across from him, it never worked. He realized, too late, just how easy it was to ignore the kids who teased him, to not care what they had to say. It had mattered so much at the time, seemed like the most important thing in the world to him for the teasing to stop, but now he wished for a chance to go through it all over again, just for the chance at making things right. Phil had lost his best friend, and that was all that mattered.

Naturally, his parents knew something was wrong right away. It was barely a few days after he disappeared that his mom noticed that Phil was avoiding the treehouse, asking if Dan needed his own space now with worried eyes. When he’d mumbled that Dan was gone, she’d sighed and asked him if he wanted to talk about it. He didn’t, and said so e until she got the idea and stopped pushing it, only promising that her and his dad were always there to listen if he wanted them. Then they tried to cheer him up by getting him his favorite foods or taking him to his favorite places to distract him, but it only worked for a little while and he was left wishing Dan was there with him. Still, he tried his hardest to smile, say thank you, and keep his head up so they wouldn’t worry. It was his own fault, anyway, and it wasn’t fair to make his parents feel as bad as he did. For two weeks, he thought he’d fooled them. Then, one night while they were driving home from Grandma’s house and rain pounded against the roof of the car, his dad sighed, meeting Phil’s eyes through the rearview mirror.

“Phil, are you feeling okay? I know you’ve been a little down lately, and I want to know if there’s anything I can do to help,” he asked, his voice quiet and gentle and without all the kind teasing it usually had, and everything was suddenly too much all at once.

“I miss Dan,” Phil said, before he even knew that he was talking, but all the feelings from the past few weeks were tumbling out of his mouth and he couldn’t stop them if he tried. “We weren’t talking at school anymore because everyone kept looking at me funny, and they made fun of me sometimes, and I know I was supposed to tell you but I couldn’t. And then we weren’t talking at home either, and if I’d just said something then we could’ve stayed friends and everything would be fine again and--” he broke off into a hiccup, realizing that the salt he tasted was from his own tears. The bright, vivid blur of the lamp posts and neon lights from off the highway swept past him on both sides, looking shaky and unfocused through watery eyes.

“Oh, honey, I’m so sorry, we should’ve noticed that something was wrong sooner. It’s not your fault that Dan’s gone, sometimes things just don’t go the way they should. You don’t have to feel like you did anything wrong,” His mom reassured him after a moment, sounding so very sincere, even if Phil couldn’t believe her yet.

Immediately, though, whatever hope he’d felt was gone, replaced with a heady sickness and the feeling that something was terribly, horribly wrong. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to focus on the words when his dad started talking, even if they were starting to sound fuzzy under the erratic beating of his own heart.

“It’ll be okay, Phil. I know you miss Dan, but you’ll make new friends eventually.” His dad turned around slightly to look at him, his smile a little weak but still comforting through Phil’s tears. “And you never know, he could come back. Even people who we care a lot about and care about us need space sometimes, and that’s okay. I’m sure, if you really try hard, you can make things-”

His dad never finished his sentence.

He was still turned around to talk to Phil, and he couldn’t see the road ahead of him. At that moment, another car, skidding on the wet pavement, crashed into the side of their own car. Phil saw its glowing lights shining through the rain in the seconds before it hit, heard his mother scream as she reached, too slow, for the wheel, and time seemed perfectly still. He felt the knot of unease snap, sharp and fast like a rubber band, and, for half a second, it was easier to breathe. Then the two cars hit, and he was thrown to the side, head slamming into the seat. He couldn’t feel anything at all.


	3. Life Sucks Less When Your Best Friend Can Fly

When Phil woke up, the the first thing that he knew was that this bed was not his own. The air was too cold, and beeping sounds from all around him were unfamiliar. The next thing he knew was that his head hurt, badly. His eyes blinked open to a white ceiling, only to squeeze shut again as the bright lights made another wave of pain wash through him. There was a chatter of voices and the sound of hurried feet all around that made his head spin, and he had to breathe deeply a few times before opening his eyes again. The horrible white ceiling and fluorescent lights were still there, but this time a set of familiar brown eyes were staring back down at him. He shot up in bed, suddenly wide awake and ignoring the dizziness from moving so fast. There was Dan, floating above his bed, looking as real as ever.  


“Phil! You’re awake!” He yelled, beaming, and all Phil could do for a long moment was resist the urge to cover his ears as his head throbbed again and try to understand what was going on.  


“Dan? I thought you left! How did you get here? How did I get here?” He croaked, as loud as his voice would let him, rubbing at his eyes and looking around. It was clear that he was in a hospital, with nurses and doctors rushing around to help patients behind green curtains and comforting worried visitors while machines beeped and whirred in the background. Everything was still a little blurry, and he had no idea what had happened. Still, Dan was smiling down at him, promising a chance to make things better, so something must have gone right.  


“I did leave, but I got really lonely on my own, and I wanted to come back and apologize. Nobody was at the house, but it was really easy to find you, for some reason. I don’t know how it happened, but I’ve been listening to the doctors when they come by, and I think you and your parents were in a car crash. Seems like you hit your head pretty hard,” He explained, pointing to Phil’s forehead, and he realized for the first time that he had bandages across part of his head. So that’s why everything hurt so much.  


“Do you feel okay? Was being in a car crash like it is in the movies? What happened while I was gone? Unless you wanna keep resting, then you don’t have to talk and I’ll be quiet again.”  


“I can talk. I don’t know what it was like, I can’t really remember anything besides driving.” Phil scrunched his face up in concentration, trying both to remember and to hide how happy he was that Dan had come looking for him.  


“But my head hurts a lot. Where’s my mom and dad, are they okay?” He asked, and Dan just shrugged his shoulders, looking as worried as Phil felt. “The doctors aren’t talking about it, and I can’t really ask them.” They both fell into a nervous silence for a moment, and Phil was so, so glad that he wasn’t alone anymore. Being afraid or worried or sad together was so much better than alone. With that in mind, he started talking before there was time to stress himself out by thinking.  


“Dan, I’m sorry I let what people were saying bother me so much. I really missed you, and I’m sorry I made you feel like you had to leave. I should have said something sooner. I still want to be friends, and I’m really glad that you’re here now.” He’d blurted everything out so fast that it took Dan a few seconds to understand what he was saying, but the wait felt like forever.  


“It’s okay, really. I’m sorry, too. I didn’t want to bother you if you didn’t want me around, and I still don’t. I thought you’d be better off without me, but I shouldn’t have just left without saying anything. I’m just glad you’re not hurt. Or, not hurt too bad.” He felt another wave of guilt wash over him with how sad Dan looked for a moment.  


“I’m really, really sorry,” He promised, and meant it more than anything else. “You don’t bother me. You’re my best friend, and it doesn’t matter what other people say, even if you are imaginary.” It felt good to say all the things he thought he’d never get too, and he promised himself to do better. Dan scrunched up his face in concentration for a moment, before pulling Phil into a surprisingly solid hug.  


“You’re my best friend, too! Thank you, for everything.” The hug close to crushing, but Phil just held on tighter, happier than he’d been in weeks and thankful that he’d been forgiven. When they pulled apart, both of them were smiling. Dan was still floating, making it look as easy as walking was for anyone else. Before Phil could ask about it, the other boy gave an exaggerated shiver, looking around at the boring white walls and bustling doctors of the room.  


“Ugh, I can’t stand this place, it gives me the creeps. I just don’t know why. I hope they let you out soon, staying here is going to give me nightmares,” He said, wrapping his arms tightly around himself and staring longingly out the a nearby window, and Phil wanted to hug him again.  


Then he imagined what it would be like if Dan left him all alone, in this big room full of sick people and worried loved ones and doctors who were too busy to tell a little boy what had happened to his parents, with nothing to distract him. There was no telling how long it would be until someone noticed him or until he saw his parents again, and, for just a moment, he was terrified.  


“Please don’t go! I can’t be all by myself again, not here,” He pleaded, grabbing for Dan’s arm even though he knew his hands would pass right through it.  


“Please stay.” He wasn’t sure if it was the way his head was spinning, or the unfamiliarity of everything around him, or the shock of having been in a car crash, but he couldn’t stand the thought of Dan leaving just then, even if he felt bad for keeping somewhere he was scared. He would be embarrassed for being so afraid later, but all that mattered right now was not being alone.  


“I won’t leave, don’t worry. It’s not so bad when you’re here too, I can make it. I’ll stay with you,” Dan said, seeming to relax a little.  


“Really? Even after we leave here, you won’t go away again?”  


“Never! I won’t leave you.”  


“Promise?” Phil asked, weakly lifting his hand and putting his pinky finger out.  


“Promise.” Dan took his finger in his own, smiling. They both knew it wasn’t a promise to be broken.  


It was just a few minutes later that the entire hospital seemed to finally notice that Phil was awake. He was overwhelmed by friendly nurses asking him questions and making him do strange tests while doctors told him that he was just fine. Nobody told him if his mom and dad were okay, just that he would find out soon. The chaos died down after a little while, and he fell asleep again.  


When he woke up for the second time, his mom was there to visit him. Her arm was in a cast, her face was pale, and she looked tired, but she smiled weakly when he opened his eyes. If Phil hadn’t felt like passing out again just from sitting up, he would’ve jumped up to hug her. As it was, he managed to sit up to see her better.  


“Mom, you’re okay! Nobody would tell me anything about what happened, and I’m not allowed to leave by myself, and I was really worried, but now you’re here!” He croaked, his voice getting scratchy again now that he was raising it. “Oh, oh, and Dan came back! We’re best friends again. Everything’s gonna go back to normal now, right? Where’s Dad? Is he still asleep like I was?” He nearly kept on babbling, overwhelmed with relief now that everything seemed like it would be okay, but he stopped when he saw the way his mom stiffened when he asked about dad.  


“Phil, thank goodness you’re awake!” She stood, pulling him into the hug that he hadn’t been able to reach before. “And I’m so happy that you and Dan are friends again!. But do you think he could go play somewhere else for just a little bit? We need to talk.” Dan turned to Phil to see what he should do, and even though he could tell from the way his mom was talking that something was wrong, he nodded. If it was important enough that she wanted to talk about it without him being distracted, then he really wanted to listen. Dan was gone in as fast as possible, clearly glad for a chance to get some fresh air, and Phil told himself that he would be fine. But he wasn’t so sure about that when he really looked at his mother’s face. Her eyes were red and watery and her smile was strained in a way he hadn’t noticed before.  


“Mom, what’s wrong? What happened?” She took his hand in her own, her smile dropping, and he started to feel sick.  


“Oh, Phil, I wish I didn’t have to tell you this. You’re so young, and I don’t want to hurt you. I know that this isn’t fair.” Her voice was wavering and she sounded choked up. He stared, waiting.  


“Mom?”  


“Your dad... the crash hit him the hardest. He didn’t make it.”  


“What? What do you mean?” Phil knew what she was saying, but it just didn’t make sense. It wasn’t possible, it couldn’t be. His mind was racing, and he was dizzy in a way that had nothing to do with his head. His mom was crying, squeezing his hand so tightly that he knew it must hurt, but everything had turned numb.  


“It was too late by the time the ambulance got there. There was nothing anyone could do. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” She was sobbing now, but all he could do was stare. Her voice sounded hollow, far away. No, it just wasn’t possible. His dad couldn’t really be gone, it didn’t make any sense. People were always sick or old before they died, and in the movies you could always tell that it was going to happen. He couldn’t be _dead _.  
__

__Not his dad, who played and talked with Phil when he got home even though he was tired from working all day. Not his dad, who always tried so hard to make Phil happy, even if he didn’t know exactly how. Not his dad, who carried Phil on his shoulders when his feet hurt, who brought his mom flowers every Valentine’s day just to make her smile, who always knew what to do no matter how scary everything was. Before he even knew it, he was crying, too, clinging as tightly as he could to his mom’s shirt. Eventually, after what felt like hours of sitting in that too-bright, empty room and crying until he couldn’t anymore, a hazy sleep claimed him. The last thing he thought before slipping under, over and over again, was this can’t be real, can’t be real, can’t be real...__  


The first year after the accident was the worst. He had to deal with weeks and weeks of feeling hardly anything interrupted by the sudden, painfully clear understanding that his dad was gone, and he’d never come back. But on top of that where the procession of visitors whose sympathy seemed plastic, the way he struggled to finish small tasks and remember simple things for weeks afterwards the accident, and the endless questions from the classmates who’d hardly looked his way before. His mother tried her best to hide it for his sake, but she spent so much time crying that Phil wondered if her eyes would ever stop being watery. She took on another job, but he wasn’t sure if it was because of the extra money or just the desperation to keep herself busy.  


If that’s what it was, he understood. He spent as much time as he could doing schoolwork and chores and games to distract himself, and for once in his life he was glad to have extra homework because of the school he’d missed while in the hospital. The very worst part, though, over the emptiness and distraction and work, was the funeral.  


It happened on a bright, sunny day just before spring ended. The weather was pleasantly warm with a cool breeze, flowers were blooming, and the promise of summer was heavy in the air. Phil hated it, just a little bit. How could he not, when his dad wasn’t there to tease him for the way his hair stuck up from the product in it or help him pick the nicest flowers? Instead, relatives he had never met but seemed to know him just fine kept hugging him and patting his head, mumbling apologies that didn’t mean anything before moving disappearing back into the crowd. He just held tightly to his mom’s hand, letting himself be lead around in a daze of sympathy and almost sincerity. It was a three hour haze of kind words and promises from a pastor he couldn’t hear clearly, wandering aimlessly around the patch of grass where the service was held without really noticing anything, then standing and watching as strangers slowly filed into their cars to go back to lives where everything was still okay. Phil avoided the casket as much as he possibly could. He didn’t even cry, not until almost everyone else was gone.  


He was walking towards a table stacked with tasteless pastries and too-sweet lemonade when it hit him, crashing through his small body like waves. Breathing was suddenly impossible, and he crumpled to his knees in the spring-bright grass like a puppet with cut strings. Pain seared through his chest, and it was so real that he looked down to make sure he hadn’t actually been hurt.  


Where he’d felt nothing for minutes and hours and days, every single sensation, every bit of hurt and loss all wrapped up into one, took over. It poured out in the tears streaming down his face, his fingers tearing up the soft grass for something to hold onto without realizing it, in the breathless sobs he couldn’t stop. For a few minutes all he could do was cry, the arms of his mother holding him and the worried voices of funeral-goers far away and separate. He couldn’t remember standing up or even not crying anymore, but he found himself in the backseat of the car just the same, feeling empty once more.  


He wouldn’t have made it through any of it without Dan. Not through the funeral, the condolences from people he didn’t care about, or the nights where he couldn’t do anything but stare at the ceiling, listening as the clock beside his bed ticked in slow motion. Dan seemed to understand better than anyone else that the last thing Phil wanted to do most of the time was talk about it. Instead, they watched TV and played games and talked about nothing, anything to stay occupied.  


But when he did get overwhelmed and needed somewhere for the tangle of feelings and thoughts inside of him to go, Dan would sit and listen for as long as he needed, staying quiet or giving reassurance as best he could, and sharing his own sadness in return. He didn’t leave Phil’s side at the funeral, a comforting presence next to him even without talking.  


It took a long time, but things did get better. School became manageable again, his mom started to really smile for the first time in months, he started to feel things all the time instead of in bursts, and the pain, while still there, wasn’t quite so red-hot. Somehow, they made it through that first year, but only by staying together.  


Dan was a source of comfort and familiarity in a world of change, and Phil knew he was the same in return. Without Dan by his side, he didn’t know how he would have made it. He realized it all at once one night, turning to look at him from where they were staring up at the stars from the treehouse floor.  


After that, there was no point bothering to worry about still having an imaginary friend, even when they just kept growing up. Besides, Phil was only getting better at avoiding attention, and Dan was really starting to get the hang of his own abilities. Communicating in public got a whole lot easier when they figured out a way that they could talk without actually, well, talking. Phil just had to decided that he wanted Dan to hear what he was going to think next, and he would. The downside was that sometimes he’d keep projecting his thoughts for a few minutes, and whatever song he had stuck in his head at the time would get stuck in Dan’s. Now, he was floating all the time, too. He could have walked just fine if he wanted, but he seemed to prefer to hovering above Phil’s shoulder, chatting away as loud as he pleased. It was getting easier for him to touch solid objects all the time, even if it still took lots of concentration and energy. They could high five pretty successfully, as long as both of them were paying attention. Otherwise, their hands would pass right through each other, and Phil have to shiver for a few minutes before the chill wore off.  


His mother, as supportive as she was, had been plenty worried after he’d casually mentioned that Dan was still around somewhere in the middle of winter break during fifth grade. He hadn’t even been thinking about it, just casually saying that Dan wanted a Wii for Christmas almost as much as him since he thought it might help their chances of actually getting one.  


His mom paused over the christmas card she was writing for a second, and he realized that, oh yeah, Dan wasn’t real to anybody else. She just brushed it off, though, smiling and saying that he and Dan wouldn’t get anything but coal if they didn’t stop pestering her about it.  


A year or two later, he found out that she’d paid a visit to the counselor he’d seen on and off during the year after his dad died to make sure he was handling the loss well, asking if she should be worried that her eleven year old still had the imaginary friend he’d made when he was five. Apparently, she’d been thoroughly reassured that, while it wasn’t exactly common, imaginary friends weren’t something to worry about. In fact, the counselor had explained, it was likely that Dan had become a way of helping Phil cope and deal with his emotions, and that he would go away when he was ready. At the time, though, Phil knew none of that, and he wouldn’t find out until a few years later, when she’d admit it over dinner. He was just focusing on not asking about their presents again because he really, really didn’t want coal, Dan sighing in boredom from where he was hovering by the top of the tree.  


By the time they were a few years into high school, everything had fallen into an easy, comfortable routine, and it was probably way too easy for Phil to forget that it wasn’t exactly normal for a sixteen year old to have an imaginary friend. Still, he couldn’t bring himself to care in the slightest. Not when he was so grateful to have Dan next to him in the empty desk during class, taking notes when he felt like it but mostly just listening (to both the teacher and to whatever gossip was going around), in the morning as, well, he walked to school and Dan floated, and in the treehouse at night.  


They didn’t have sleepovers nearly as much anymore, because keeping up with homework, chores, and getting enough sleep for school took more time than what was really humane, but they still talked late into the night whenever they could. Sure, he didn’t have many friends besides Dan, and he got a lot of comments about how quiet he was, but the friends he did have were good ones, and he talked plenty around them. Besides, it was more than worth it just to have their friendship.  


The best friend he’d somehow managed to make during high school was PJ, who designed the set for every single school play and acted in most of them. Funnily enough, they’d met because Phil had to hang around backstage during rehearsal pretty often to snag used scripts and monologues for Dan. He’d taken to following along with the shows even if he couldn’t exactly audition when no one could see or hear him, and it was up to Phil to awkwardly ask for whatever script he needed. PJ, who spent most of his time there anyway, was easy to talk to and even easier to be friends with. It wasn’t long until they were eating lunch together and texting in the afternoons when they weren’t both drowning in homework, even though they didn’t share a single class.  


Phil found out that PJ had a sort of creativity that turned anything into an adventure, which was a blessing when he spent most of his life staring at the riveting landscapes of his desk and the back of whoever sat in front of him’s head. Right now, PJ was in the middle of writing a skit for the one-acts later that year, something about exploring space and strange, tiny planets. It sounded amazing, even though Phil only heard bits and pieces of it in between bites of sandwich during lunch.  


In turn, he was willing to listen to all of the stories Phil had already told Dan a hundred times, about the weird strangers who talked to him, how he somehow had horrible luck with wildlife, the video game he’d spent a summer making a few years ago, and even his grandma’s weird old stories, once he was sure he wasn’t going to be laughed at.  


They didn’t really see each other outside of school, since PJ lived way too far for Phil to walk since he couldn’t drive yet and his mom, who worked in the evenings, couldn't take him. Besides, he was always busy with the latest show, but that didn’t stop them from becoming good friends, especially when talking over the phone was almost as good as in person.  


Then there was Louise, who Phil had never met in real life but who he was closer to than most of the people he saw at school everyday. She lived on the other side of the country, and they’d only started talking in the first place because Louise texted Phil on a wrong number and they’d gotten along well. Sure, they only ever talked through a keyboard and only saw each other through laptop screens, but that didn’t make their friendship any less real, and that wasn’t even close to the weirdest way in which Phil had a friend.  


Speaking of Dan, he’d taken to chatting with Louise as well, but only through texting, insisting that he wasn’t comfortable revealing his face or voice, and since Phil promised (lied) that Dan was, in fact, a real person, she’d accepted it after only a little hesitation. It was easy for Phil to tell Louise almost everything without having to worry about her telling any of his classmates, which she wouldn’t do anyway, but it was nice to sure of it.  


So, homework and high school were a pain, but he had friends he could talk to, even if most of his classmates hardly looked his way. He was friendly and had lots of people who he could chat with in between classes, but most people stuck with their own groups. His mother smiled sincerely when he got home in the afternoons, and he only had to worry about chores and whatever assignment he’d been putting off. Once he got all of that done, he could spend whatever afternoon he had left playing video games and talking with Dan. He was just glad that his mom couldn’t hear the way Dan screamed at the TV whenever he lost at Mario Kart.  


The weeks flew by, and it felt normal to have Dan with him, even if he was almost always floating and had a bad habit of levitating objects around the room when he was bored. They’d had a few close calls where someone had just barely seen a cup floating around Phil’s head before he could hide it, or that one time Dan decided it would be funny to slam the door as loud as possible in the middle of math class, which lead to a rumor that the room was haunted.  


It was a good thing that people were so determined to believe only what they wanted to, and it wasn’t as though rumours about strange happenings weren’t all over town anyway. Phil didn’t spend much time thinking about the fact that other people were able to see the things Dan moved, because that meant thinking about the fact that his best friend wasn’t even real, which wasn’t fun for anybody. Ignoring it was easy when, even if they weren’t perfect, things seemed to be going his way.  


At least they were, until his whole grade was dragged to some lodge three hours away for a class trip. Spending a few days crammed into bunk beds in the middle of nowhere doing team building exercises was apparently supposed to help them all to appreciate nature and bond as a community, but he kind of doubted that it was going to work. He would have rather spent the Wednesday evening on his laptop catching up with Louise or watching anime with Dan, but at least there wouldn’t be any homework.  


The downside was that they had to get to school early to load the bus, and, even though it was raining, his mom had already left for work and he was forced to walk. So Phil ended up lugging his overnight bag through the rain at six thirty in the morning, trying his absolute best not resent his teachers for making the trip mandatory.  
Dan was being completely unhelpful from where he was hovering over his shoulder, the rain passing right through him as he complained about having to get up so early. His curly hair still looked nice and his outfit of skinny jeans, a dark shirt, and a jacket were all perfectly dry, while Phil’s own hair was plastered to his forehead and his soaked clothes were heavy and freezing. He was somewhere between turning back around to get an umbrella and just not going at all when Dan finally made himself useful by carrying his bag, talking loud enough for his voice to carry through the rain.  


“So, do you think you’ll go to Jamie’s party next week? I heard she has a pool,” He asked, and Phil knew that “heard” meant hanging around and listening to gossip whenever he got bored with actual schoolwork.  


“Probably not. PJ isn’t, and it’s still a little too cold to go swimming,” Phil sighed. “Plus Mom has to work late that day, so she probably won’t want to worry about us being reckless teens.”  


“Uh-huh, because you’re so reckless. Phil the party guy, right here,” Dan announced to an invisible crowd, spreading his hands dramatically.  


“Hey! it’s not like you actually leave the house much, either.” He was thankful that Dan knew him well enough to know that he was about to elbow him playfully in the side, and made himself solid just in time for Phil not to pass right through him and into a mud puddle the size of a small swamp.  


“Fair point. Oh, we’re getting close to school now,” He noted, floating high enough that he must have been able to see it through the heavy rain, and they fell into a comfortable silence, reassured that they could be somewhere relatively dry soon.  


Luckily, the rain took pity on them and let up some, and, just for the short walk the rest of the way, things were... quiet. The raindrops hit the pavement softer than before, the sound of Phil’s footsteps seemed to echo through the quiet morning street, and the slight electric hum of a street lamp that was probably older than him all wrapped up together into one sound for a few seconds. The lamp’s small circle of light illuminated the two of them as they passed through it, and he was struck by how absolutely... normal Dan looked, drifting a few feet above the ground, legs stretched out in front of him and hands shoved into his jacket pockets. Phil couldn’t help but smile, and they walked further into the quiet. It was the sort of strange peace that made him feel like they were the only two people in the whole universe, their own little world of rain and lamp-light and each other.


	4. Groups of Rich White Boys and Other Bad Signs

All too soon, they were at the school, lit up fluorescent and surrounded by a herd of drenched, noisy teenagers and anxious chaperones huddled by the bus. From there, it was taking a hurried roll call to get out of the rain, trying to find a seat on the bus without getting shoved, and finally watching as his neighborhood faded away though smudged glass.  


Of course, Phil couldn’t have possibly known that his whole world was about to be flipped upside down. Even so, he was suddenly aware that a strange sense of finality had settled over the bus. No one else seemed to notice, from the way they were all yelling and settling into their seats, but it filled him like a fog. He managed to just brush it off, something he was getting better and better at, determined to at least try and enjoy this trip, ominous feeling or not.  


Instead, he focused on heaving his bag into the seat next to him (Dan preferred hovering near the roof of the bus, anyway) and listening vaguely to the buzz of noise all around him. There was the usual bus-ride gossip and occasional burst of singing that quickly got shouted out, forming a comfortable background noise. He talked to PJ for a while, or at least tried to, since there were a few rows of annoyed people in between them, and they quickly gave up.  


The bus was a little warm from all the activity, but at least that meant that his clothes were close to dry by the time he settled back into the cushy seat, grabbing his earbuds and staring out the window to watch the city suburbs fade into fields of crops and shaggy patches of forest.  


The scenery must have been boring enough to lull him into sleep at some point, because he woke up to his face smushed against Dan’s shoulder, legs tucked awkwardly underneath him. It must have looked like a really uncomfortable position for his neck to anyone else, and he forced himself to sit up. Dan clearly hadn’t moved for a very long time either, judging from the way he rolled his shoulders and stretched as soon as Phil wasn’t leaning on him. He would’ve felt a little bad for keeping him there if he wasn’t so well rested.  


“Thanks for being such a good pillow,” He mumbled without thinking, rubbing at his sore neck and looking around to make sure no one would see him talking. Even if they had, it probably wouldn’t look to weird, since everyone was yelling at everyone else so much that it was impossible to tell who was talking to who, but he’d learned to be cautious.  


“What are friends for? But seriously, I totally get to choose what movie we watch when we get back, since I’m the best pal ever and all.” Dan’s voice was teasing and he was beaming fondly, and Phil felt his stomach twist. That was definitely weird, especially since it had been happening a lot over the last few weeks at completely random times. He must have been getting sick, or it was nerves about finals coming up, but either way, it felt something like a swarm of butterflies was trying to escape out of his lungs, and he had no idea why.  


“Fine, as long as you don’t make me watch Shrek again,” He answered, shaking himself out of the daze. Dan only raised his eyebrows and shrugged, smiling in a way that meant Shrek was a definite possibility. Great.  


There wasn’t time to argue for a totally Ogre-free evening though, since he’d apparently slept through most of the trip. The bus shuddered to a stop on the bumpy gravel road outside of the lodge, lurching in a way that did nothing to help his motion sickness. Once his nausea was gone and he’d filed off of the bus, Phil squinted up at the building, relieved to see that the storm had faded as they drove, pleasant sunlight in its place. Somehow, he didn’t think group bonding exercises would have been any more fun soaking wet.  


The lodge was bigger than he’d expected, and nicer, too, with stone steps leading up to the entrance and rows of windows lining the outside. The barn-style, dark green roof was just a little ugly in contrast to the shiny wood that made the rest of it, but the surrounding scenery mostly made up for it. A stone path trailed down to a nearby lake, the bright grass melting into sand at the water’s shore. Forests surrounded them on all sides, but the paths, open, grassy areas, and plenty of distance between the trees made them feel welcoming instead of threatening.  


The whole thing took his breath away for a moment; Phil had been expecting a worn down, cramped little cabin surrounded by scraggly trees and murky water, not this. Plus, if he was being honest, he spent most of his life in the city, and even if it was more a patchwork of suburbs than anything, it was nothing like this. His classmates seemed just as awed, and it took them all a few minutes to settle down before the teachers could explain the rules.  


They could go down to the lake, but there was no swimming allowed, since a lifeguard wouldn’t be hired until summer. Exploring the forest was allowed, but only if you stayed on the trails, took a buddy with you, and didn’t wander very far from the group. There were board games, cards, and a foosball table in the lodge. Everyone had to eat lunch and take their stuff to their rooms before going anywhere, and no, they didn’t get to choose who they were sharing with. They all had to meet back up in the entryway of the lodge at five, and there would be strict consequences if they were late or didn’t follow the guidelines laid out.  


After a bunch of head nodding and noncommittal murmurs of agreement, they were free. Phil gave a sigh of relief as the tightly-packed crowd around him spread out, heaving his bag over one shoulder and starting towards the steps. But before he could get anywhere, one of the teacher chaperones, Mr. Warner, pulled him aside.  


“Phil, how’d you like to have a room all to yourself? We have an uneven number of kids this year, and I’m sure you won’t be too lonely.” Phil blinked for a moment before nodding, half relieved as Mr. Warner moved on, pausing to yell at a group of boys who were leaning way too far over the railings. Okay, it might have hurt just a little that the teachers singled him out as being okay on his own, because, hey, he had plenty of friends. Just because he wasn’t super close with most of them didn’t mean he was some sort of outcast, and he really did make an effort to be friendly and make everyone feel included.  


On the plus side, it would be way easier to talk to Dan and he wouldn’t have to run the risk of being stuck with some guy he barely knew. The thought of not having to spend two days awkwardly dodging around an equally awkward dude was more than enough to lift his spirits, and he went inside eager to find his comfortably empty room.  


The interior of the building was a little rustic but still nice, with couches grouped together around little wooden tables and cozy-looking rugs all throughout the entryway. The ceilings were high enough to make the welcome desk and the little old lady sat behind it look comically small in comparison, and he didn’t even notice her at first. There were hallways leading to the fancy guestrooms and game room in every direction, and a staircase up to the smaller rooms where they would actually be sleeping. The deer, elk, and moose heads packed tightly onto the far wall above a huge fireplace seemed to be staring directly into Phil’s soul from the abyss, but other than that, it was a really nice place.  


Later, after they’d eaten the surprisingly good cafeteria food provided for them, the teachers called out who was in what number room, kids groaning or fist-bumping depending on who they were paired with. Phil remained quiet, waiting until the storm of people rushing to find their rooms died down to find his own.  


Like everything else, it was cozy and nice, with two twin beds against opposite walls, a desk tucked into one corner, a door to an acceptably clean bathroom, and large windows with a nice view of the lake.  


He decided to get his bed set up before doing anything else, glaring at Dan until he sighed and helped to tug the sheets onto the mattress and roll out his sleeping bag. There wasn’t much else to set up, since he didn’t have anything else but toiletries, a few changes of clothes, and a Stephen King book. Deciding that he could wait to take all of that out, Phil flopped back on the mattress, watching the old fan whirr half-heartedly above him.  


“Where do you wanna go now?” He asked, using as little effort as possible to flop over and face Dan.  


“Anywhere but the forest, I’m not dying out here in the middle of nowhere, and there’s definitely an axe murderer out there somewhere. Plus there’s, like, spiders and stuff,” He answered, mock shivering, and Phil rolled his eyes.  


“I don’t think anyone’s going to die out here, Dan, and it’s not like spiders can really bite you or anything.”  


“I’d say the chance of a death is, like, fifty-fifty considering some of the people in our grade’s survival skills, and I don’t care if they can’t bite me, I don’t want to look at them.”  


“Whatever. If we’re not going in the forest, I want to walk around the lake and see if we can find anything cool. Maybe we’ll see a deer!” He exclaimed, the thought way more exciting than murder or spiders.  


“Maybe, unless you keep yelling about how much you want to see a deer and scare them all away.” Dan replied, and Phil scowled. He wasn’t even yelling  


He was about to say something really, really clever in response, just as soon as he thought of it, but a banging noise cut through the air before he had the chance. They turned in unison towards the windows, and Phil resisted the very strong urge to sigh. The same three boys who Mr. Warner had yelled at earlier were standing on the fire escape, pressing their noses against the glass, making faces and laughing at their own genius. As soon as they had his attention, one of them flipped him off for no apparent reason before they moved on, probably to harass the next room over. Smooth.  


“Ugh, they look like the kind of white boys who think they’re better than you for not liking pop music and have names like Kale,” Dan scoffed, and Phil couldn’t help but snort, it was so accurate. He didn’t know the boys well in person, but everyone knew them from gossip, and they made it painfully obvious to anyone within a ten foot radius that they were all rich with too much time on their hands and no rules at home.  


“I know! The one with the rooster hair looks like his name is... Chadley,” Phil suggested after a moment of very careful thought, laughing.  


“If he’s a Chadley, then the guy with the ugly snapback is Brado.”  


“And the last one is, like, Trevon.” Dan paused at that one, raising his eyebrows.  


“Trevon? Is that even a name?”  


“Yeah! Well, maybe. It’s like a mix of Trevor and Devon. Okay, it’s not a name, but I think it suits him.” Phil crossed his arms, smiling goofily. That was enough for Dan to give up, seeming to reach the conclusion that white boy names really weren’t worth a debate.  


“Fine, maybe it does. Can we go to the lake now? It’s stuffy in here.” He nodded, pulling his shoes back on, and they were off. A few other groups of people were on their way out, but they made it through the door without any awkward conversation. Most of them were going down to the lake or disappearing into the forest, and it was surprisingly quiet just a little ways from the lodge. PJ was sitting in the grass nearby, but he looked so focused on whatever he was scribbling into his notebook that Phil decided it would be rude to break his concentration by talking.  


They stopped about halfway around the lake, since it was pretty unlikely that anyone would hear or see him talking way out here. Relaxed by that thought and the quiet around him, he flopped down onto his back, staring up at the wide blue sky. The grass was soft beneath him, a cool breeze swept through the air, the warmth of the sun shone down, and he let out a deep sigh. All tension drained out of him as he listened to the hum of insects and leaves rustling and the occasional, distant yell from the lakeshore. It was peaceful.  


At least it was, until Dan drifted directly above him, smiling mischievously and almost blocking his sunlight. He’d gotten just a little bit less... solid over the years, but Phil didn’t usually notice it until he was in bright light. Right now, though, he was more concerned by the look on his face, which usually meant he was in for a surprise.  


The breeze drifted over them again, and, all at once, he realized just how close their faces were; Dan’s deep brown eyes were staring into his own, making his breath catch in his throat and his heart race. Everything, the noise, the trees, the wind, all seemed frozen in time as he stared up at him. His mind was moving way too fast for him to catch up. One of Dan’s hands was suddenly resting on his cheek, out of nowhere and oh-so soft. Was he going to-- no, he couldn’t---.  


“Dan, wha--” Phil started, breathless as their faces seemed even closer than before, but Dan interrupted him before he could finish.  


By shoving a handful of grass and dirt falling into his face, laughing loudly. Phil shot up, sputtering when some dirt got in his mouth and Dan cackled, floating just out of his reach.  


“What was that for?” It was more of a yell than a real question, but he was too busy trying to get the last of the grass out of his hair and to ignore how red he knew his face had turned.  


“We’re out here to enjoy nature, right? I thought I’d give you a head start, since I’m being such a good friend.” All Phil could do was glare, not quite understanding why the word friend seemed to lodge in his ribcage like glass. Or, for that matter, why he’d been so flustered just a second before, or why he felt so disappointed. Sure, nobody liked getting dirt in their mouth, but this was different.  


Everything seemed to have changed directions so fast that he had no idea what to feel or think. Maybe he’d been in the sun too long, or he was just worried about the imaginary axe-murderer in the words, or he’d had too much of the probably toxic, sugary juice during lunch and that’s why his heart felt like it was going to pound out of his chest. Those were the only options that made any sense, for sure. Obviously.  


“Yeah, ‘cause throwing grass at someone makes you a good friend,” He grumbled, gathering up his own pile of grass and hurling it at Dan, not even surprised when it just went straight through his shoulder. Instead of trying again, he flopped back down, but he couldn’t get himself to relax like before.  


He had a bad feeling about something, one that wouldn’t go away for more than a few minutes, no matter how hard he tried to distract himself. It was about more than the way his stomach kept doing somersaults for no reason, he was sure of that, but it certainly didn’t make things any less confusing. He must have looked about as good as he felt, because Dan dropped his teasing, looking genuinely concerned.  


“Okay, what’s wrong? You’re making that face again,” He asked, sitting down next to him and resting his chin on his hands in a way that told Phil he wasn’t going to give up on getting answers anytime soon. Still, changing the subject was worth a try.  


“What face? I don’t make any faces. Ever.” It sounded like defeat, even to his own ears, but Phil was determined. Well, slightly motivated, at most, but close enough.  


“You’re making a face right now, but the one I was talking about is your famous ‘I’m upset about something but I’m not going to say anything about it and instead sigh a lot and be boring for twenty minutes' face.’ And you’re usually kinda good with talking things out, so it took me a while to see that face enough to come up with the name, and you should be impressed,” Dan explained, and Phil stared.  


He definitely wasn’t going to get out of this one. That was one problem with being friends with someone for so long, you know each other so well that it’s almost impossible to lie. Leaving out little bits of information, on the other hand, wasn’t lying, not quite.  


“Okay, I’ll tell you, but stop naming my expressions. Seriously, that’s creepy. I just... I have a bad feeling, like things are going to go wrong, or maybe they already are. Nothing’s actually wrong, and I know that, but I can’t stop worrying about it. It’s probably just nerves and stuff, really,” He managed, the words sounding even more ridiculous now that they weren’t inside his head, but Dan seemed willing to take him seriously.  


“Well... I didn’t know what to expect, but it wasn’t that. But if you really feel bad about something, then it’s probably worth paying attention to. Like, intuition and all that, right? So we’ll keep a look out, even if it’s nothing. Hey, I’m not going to be able to sleep tonight anyway, so I’ll be the first to know if anything goes wrong.” When Phil looked at him questioningly, he sighed.  


“We’re in the middle of the forest and it probably gets pitch black out here, there’s no way I’m letting my guard down. Even if anything supernatural 100% does not exist doesn’t mean they don’t terrify me, and this place is like something out of a horror movie. Or a nightmare,” He explained, and Phil nodded, understanding. He’d forgotten that Dan was freaked out by forests, of all things, but he couldn’t really blame him, this place would probably be creepy at night.  


“Oh yeah. Well, if something does attack you, I’ll be asleep, so good luck getting help,” He teased, trying to get back at him for the whole grass thing.  


“Hey, don’t even talk about that, it’s freaking me out!” Dan said, laughing, and it was all too easy for Phil to forget his worries for a little. It really was a very nice day, especially when they were free to spend the rest of the afternoon walking around the lake, talking as much as they wanted.  


There weren’t any deer around, but they did see a nest of baby bunnies, which more than made up for it. By the time it was almost five O’clock, Phil was starving, and they were some of the first people back to the lodge for dinner. Thankfully, it didn’t take long for everybody to be accounted for, and they were herded back into the dining area. Phil chatted with PJ all throughout the meal, glad to hear that he was enjoying the scenery just as much as they were. After that, they were left to their own devices for the rest of the night, as long as everyone stayed in the building and went to bed at the right time  


He spent most of the free time hanging out in the safety of his room, talking to Louise as much as he could with the horrible, middle of nowhere internet connection. He’d occasionally wander out onto the landing or into one of the game rooms, joining in a few conversations but mostly just losing repeatedly at foosball He eventually called all or nothing and finally won, much to Dan’s dismay from where he was watching the game. He stopped playing after that, not wanting to ruin his fantastic winning streak of one. Instead he settled into a chair in the corner of the room, struggling to focus on his book with all the noise around.  


After staring at the same page for at least ten minutes, something besides the noise distracted him. The same group of boys, Chadley, Brado, and Trevon (he should probably learn their actual names at some point, he thought), were all clumped together into the corner, whispering importantly.  


Phil froze, too curious not to listen in on their conversation. I mean, it wasn’t like he was spying on them or anything if he just happened to overhear what they were saying, right? That in mind, he held his breath, barely catching what sounded like “...it’s in my bag, no one will find it...” and “don’t be such a wuss, dude, of course I know what I’m doing. My dad won’t even know it’s gone.” It made the unease inside of him spike enough that the breath he’d been holding left in a gasp, and he didn’t think to look away before one of the boys caught his eye, and they definitely knew he’d been staring.  


He slouched down in his seat as casually as possible, trying to hide his definitely red face and staring determinedly at his book. When, a few seconds later, they were still muttering in the corner and no coming over to beat him up or something, he let himself relax just a tiny bit.  


Phil was lucky that his school was big, and that he’d had lots of practice being friendly enough to not be an outcast but quiet enough to not draw attention to himself, but he knew perfectly well that not everyone had that luxury. Teenagers could be vicious, and he knew from experience that wealth and privilege tended to go hand in hand with cruelty; boys like them were living proof of it. They’d never learned that the things they did actually had repercussions from distant parents with enough money to pay off any damage and enough sympathy to insist that their innocent little boys couldn’t have done it. It was best to keep his head down and mouth shut like everyone else.  


As much as he wanted to do something, being almost invisible as Dan to people like them was the only way he could be sure to keep his secret. It occurred to him, not for the first time, just what would happen if the whole grade found out that he spent hours talking to someone who wasn’t there. Not exactly his idea of fun.  


“What’d I just miss?” Dan asked, and Phil just barely kept himself from jumping out of the chair, he’d been so zoned out. “You’re scowling at nothing and it’s freaking me out.”  


I’m not sure, but I think those guys might have caught me eavesdropping on them, he thought, just barely tilting his head at where the boys were. They actually looked pretty suspicious, huddled in the corner with their heads tilted in. Dan looked puzzled, but nodded once and drifted over to them. Phil let him go, hoping that he’d hear something else useful without causing anymore ghost rumours, that was the last thing he needed.  


His heart was still pounding, but, really, he shouldn’t have been this nervous. They probably weren’t going to care, much less beat him up, just because he glanced their way. Still, something about the whole thing seemed more serious than what made sense to him, and the adrenaline didn’t die down. For a split second, a familiar rush of energy filled him, and he was reminded instantly of the feeling of crossing the rope into the tree house late at night; how important it had seemed at the time and how desperate they’d been not to get caught, to keep up the adventure. He smiled at the reminder that things would always be okay in the end. They’d been younger then, and so much had happened, but the two of them were only closer than before. He was more relaxed by the time Dan got back, but he was clearly annoyed, wearing a stormy expression and drifting up and down more than usual.  


“Well, Chadley and company are not only immature, irritating, and bland, but they’re also homophobic assholes,” He spat, and Phil raised an eyebrow.  


_Well, that’s not exactly surprising, just look at them. But they weren’t talking about me or anything? _Dan’s glaring increased, and Phil was starting to get a little worried.__  


“No, that’s the problem. Apparently, Brado thinks you’re totally into him because you looked at him for half a second and wear skinny jeans.” He rolled his eyes. “I swear, they’re getting even dumber. No one in their right mind would check any of them out seriously. They were all laughing at the idea that, believe it or not, not everyone in the world is straight. I don’t think they know you were listening, though, if that’s what you’re worried about.”  


Phil just barely let out a sigh of relief. Those guys had probably called every guy in school besides themselves gay, plus any girl who wasn’t willing to sleep with them, which was most. Just because it was kind of true for him didn’t put him more at risk than anyone else, as long as he was careful, and he was always careful. Plus, if they hadn’t caught him eaves-no, overhearing- their suspicious conversation, then he didn’t have anything to worry about. Well, except for whatever it was they were hiding, but Louise’s latest message coming through immediately distracted him. He focused instead on not laughing at the dumb picture she’d sent and responding, forgetting his worries at the worst possible time.  


Lights out came in no time once he was actually able to focus on his book, and he had to tear himself from the pages to put on his pajamas and brush his teeth before actually getting into bed. Dan was clearly bothered by the heavy darkness outside, fidgeting and bouncing up and down in the air.  


Phil didn’t feel too much better, still trying to ignore the unease he’d been feeling, but he didn’t have to tell Dan that. Partially because he didn’t want to make him worry anymore than he already was, but mostly because it was probably totally obvious already, just like the way his fear was obvious to Phil in the lightning fast tapping of his fingers against the bed frame. The whole room felt tense, and they both knew it.  


“Okay, I’m going to bed now,” He announced, the silence too unbearable. “I’ll be right here, in this bed. Just in case you need me for anything. And there are other kids here with us and teachers downstairs who probably have first aid training, not that it matters at all.” Sure, it wasn’t exactly subtle, but Dan’s tap-tap-tapping slowed and he smiled.  


“Yep, totally irrelevant. And I’ll be wide awake just in case anything mysteriously bad happens, not that it will. Goodnight, Phil.” He answered, but Phil could hear the thank-you underneath, and he knew he’d be able to sleep better now.  


“Goodnight, Dan!” He said, and turned off the lights. As reassured as he was, the feeling that something was wrong stayed with him all the way until he fell asleep. 

Sometimes, Phil really wished he wasn’t right.


	5. A New-and-Improved Train Wreck, Now with Fire!

When Phil awoke, it was to pitch-blackness all around and Dan’s shaking hands on his shoulders, forcing him into consciousness. It took a few second for his brain to actually start functioning, and a few more for the words he was saying to make sense. When they registered, he could only wish they hadn’t.  


“Phil! Phil! Wake up! I think something’s on fire, we have to get out of here! Now!” He yelled, frantic, and Phil shot up.  


“What? Are you serious?” But even as he asked it, the warmth of the room rolled over him, way hotter than when he’d fallen asleep. Flames were creeping into the sky outside of the window, casting dancing light and shadows over the floor. His body started moving faster than his brain, throwing the blankets to the floor and kicking his legs out of the sleeping bag. Still not able to believe it, he ran to the window. Sure enough, flames were creeping in from the left, the heat making the air shimmer like asphalt in summer, and the yells of other kids chorusing from all around.  


Okay, everything was on fire. That was definitely a bad thing, Phil thought, laughing a little, which meant he was probably at least kind of hysteric. It felt a little like he was going to vibrate out of his skin, or maybe be sick, in some strange place between still asleep and wide awake.  


Phil stared at the fire. It was hypnotic in the same way train crashes are, so terrible it was beautiful and so unstoppable that it was simply meant to be, like love at first sight or sliced bread. Yeah, he was definitely some kind of hysterical, Phil decided, using all his willpower to look away and tug the window open. From there, it was back to his bed to shove the few things he’d unpacked back into his duffle bag and throwing it over his shoulder. The room was getting hotter and hotter, but that wasn’t enough to make him leave all his clothes to the fire.  


He nearly tripped over his feet as he threw the whole bundle out of the window, too panicked to care. The only thing thing that mattered was getting out of there, to safety. It would’ve helped to not feel like he was moving in slow motion as he lifted himself out of the window and onto the fire escape, legs shaky and useless.  


Dan was hovering next to him the whole time, uncaring as his side slipped in and out of the wall. He was saying something, Phil eventually realized, but whatever it was was muffled by the white noize clouding his head.  


The relief of making it onto the fire escape didn’t last long. The metal was scalding the bottoms of his bare feet from the minute he stepped onto it, and he cursed. Still, it was better than inside the lodge. He stumbled down the steps as fast as the heat and his own fear-worsened clumsiness would allow, thinking of nothing but getting away from the flames. The cool grass, soft beneath his toes, was intoxicating, and the heat slowly melted off his back the farther he went into the night air. When it didn’t feel like he could burn up at any moment anymore, he stopped. Phil had to force himself to look around at his surroundings, to take in the damage and the fire.  


There was a clump of students and teachers to one side, muttering and crying, but he didn’t give them a second thought. They would be fine now. The lodge wasn’t so lucky.  


He was captivated by the way the flames danced throughout the old wooden building, lighting it up from the inside and flickering over the rooftop and into the sky. It was then that he noticed the smoke, dark enough to blend into the night sky and thick enough to block out the stars. All he could do was cough and stare up at the sky for a moment, wishing that the realization of just how much more of the universe was visible out here was under any other circumstance.  


The fire was worse on one side of the building than the other, blazing hotter and devouring more wall and floor and roof, and he understood vaguely that it must have started there. Part of the wall collapsed out onto fire escape in a pile of ash and ember. The next thing he noticed were the screams.  


They were coming from a small clump of kids, still on the escape. It hit him all at once that they were trapped, the only way out blocked by the fallen wall, and his pulse kicked up from where it’d just barely started slowing. None of the teachers or adults seemed to notice, or if they did, they didn’t know what to do. Dan, on the other hand, did, because they met eyes for just a second. Then they were racing back towards the lodge, back towards the hungry fire.  


This time, he didn’t even feel the stairs burning his feet. All he could feel was the pounding of his own heart and the way his lungs hurt, breathing in more smoke than air as he reached the top. Clearing the way was impossible; there was no way he’d be able to touch any of the burning wood to move it, and even if he could, it would take time they didn’t have. There was no telling how much more of the building would give out, and when. Dizziness was just starting to cloud his head, and it was getting harder and harder not to flinch away from the heat. Phil couldn’t imagine what it was like for the kids that were trapped on the other side, so much closer to being swallowed up.  


He didn’t have to imagine for long, though, because then Dan was next to him once more. Phil nodded along to something he’d said, even if he didn’t understand it, and then he was being lifted into the air and over the wreckage.  


It was clumsy, his legs kicking through the air to stay balanced and Dan’s hands way too tight on his shoulders, but it got the job done, and they were on the other side. The fire burned hotter here, and the yells were almost deafening, coming from what felt like all around. Some kids had made it out onto the fire escape, standing as far away from the building and the smoke as they could, while others were trapped inside their rooms, the way out blocked by rubble or the sharp glass from broken windows.  


Phil didn’t know where to start. He felt close to dying, heart pounding and lungs burning and head spinning, and he didn’t know what was the fire and what was the fear. His body didn’t let him slow down, forcing him over to the windows. As long as he wasn’t alone, everything would turn out fine.  


“Dan, give me a hand over here!” He yelled, tugging at a board that had fallen over the window even as it seared his hands, because there were people on the other side of it that needed his help. Dan, who clearly couldn’t feel any of the heat, flew over, taking a deep breath before tugging the board away. There was no time to think about what the kids were seeing as he helped them through the window, gasping in the fresher air. Dan was doing the same to his right, and Phil realized that he couldn’t see anyone else inside the building.  


“Who else is in there?” He shouted, throat burning, to a girl in footie pajamas who looked the least likely to break down of his classmates. She blinked for a second before answering, and he really, really hoped that she wasn’t forgetting anyone.  


“Everyone else got down before the stairs collapsed, I think, except for us and a few guys. But I haven’t seen them since then, and I’m pretty sure their room was in the back of the lodge.” She said, pointing in through the window, and before she was even finished speaking, Phil felt his heart drop. If anyone was still in there... Dan must have seen the look on his face, because he was next to him in an instant.  


“I thought that was everybody? What are you-”  


“Start getting them to the ground, okay? I think someone’s still inside.” He must’ve sounded way more confident than he felt, because Dan only hesitated for a second before nodding, turning towards the huddle of people.  


“Be careful, I’m serious. And if you get stuck, yell for me, okay? I’m not going to leave you in there, no matter what,” His voice was soft and serious, and Phil promised he would, feeling just a little bit less like this was a terrible idea, even if it definitely was. He took a deep breath, pushing through the clumps of people towards the farthest window. Now that he knew to listen for it, the yelling from inside was barely audible, and he was just thankful that it sounded close. The window ledge burned his hands as he pulled himself through it.  


Once again, it was painfully clear that he had absolutely no plan and no idea of what he was supposed to be doing, just that he had to do something. The floor was shaky and covered in ash beneath his feet, but he kept moving, flames lapping at his ankles as he ran down the hallway. Smoke and cinders clouded his vision, and he felt halfway to suffocating.  


The door was easy to kick open once he reached it, the frame weak and getting weaker as it burned. On the other side, the fire was hottest, dancing hungrily into air that was so dry that it burned his throat to breathe it. He’d made it. Phil had just enough time to register that it was the same three boys he’d been so worried about earlier, their faces smeared with soot and stricken with fear. One of them looked almost unconscious.  


“Come on, there’s a way out through here!” He yelled, relieved when they were all okay enough to follow him out. The weakest one had to lean on his shoulder, hands clutching his jacket like a lifeline as they stumbled through the hallway, but they made it to the open window. He felt no better, even more lightheaded than before, but something was... different. The unease from before was back, full force, coiling in his gut.  


Without warning, it snapped, just as he helped the last of the boys, the one who was most out of it, through the window, carefully unwinding his hands from where they were still clinging to his jacket. He could only hope that they’d all end up okay, but he had a strange feeling for a second that he should be more worried about himself. Something in his pocket felt strangely cool and heavy and wrong, but there was no more time to think before he was pulling himself out of the building.  


Phil’s legs were shaking so much that he reminded himself of a baby deer, feeling hysteric once more now that he was close to safety. If only they could’ve stayed here long enough to see one. His next thought was that he wasn’t safe, not yet.  


Everything was starting to get hazier, but he promised himself he’d be fine, as soon as he got away from the smoke. He just hoped that everyone else would be fine, too, watching the boys climb down a ladder that one of the teachers must have put up while he was inside. At least an adult had taken some sort of initiative, better late than never.  


It might have been the adrenaline, but it didn’t really occur to him to follow them down, especially when his legs felt like noodles. Instead, he watched as Dan hurried back up to him.  


“Oh, thank god you’re okay. As much as I’d love to save you from a burning building, I really, really wouldn’t. Come on, let’s get out of here,” He muttered, his voice relieved and his face exhausted. When Phil didn’t move, still a little out of it, he just sighed.  


“Here, give me your arms.” He did, not bothering to question it, and he was being lifted into the air and carried down to the ground. Dan was struggling to stay afloat above him, his arms hurt, and it was just generally awkward, but at least he was headed towards ground that wasn’t on fire. Getting onto said ground was less being placed gently onto the grass and more being dropped in the dirt, but he couldn’t really blame Dan. It took energy and concentration just for them to high five, so physically lifting a bunch of teenagers and burning rubble couldn’t be easy on him.  


Actually, now that he could actually breath and think almost normally, Phil really wished he couldn’t. How could a coping mechanism, a friend he’d made up, physically carry people? He could ignore small objects moving around his room at night, because, hey, what were friends for, if not ignoring occasional of levitation. This was something else. Having his actual classmates watching the whole thing, having his classmates be the things moving around, and having no way to explain it...  
It made his head pound even worse than before. Or maybe that was the smoke. Either way, before he had the chance to freak himself out anymore, said coping mechanism was kneeling down to where he was sprawled in the dirt, snapping his fingers directly in front of his face. Helpful.  


“Phil, you’re still with me, right? I really don’t want to feel responsible if you pass out,” Dan said, but his voice was raw with concern and his hands were too gentle when he placed them on either side of Phil’s face, grounding him.  


Everything went clear all at once, focusing onto them as the dizziness and pain and confusion of just a moment ago became nothing more than a dream. The world was only the warm fire-light shining off of Dan’s face, softer now that it was on his familiar features instead of ash and wood, illuminating the life in his eyes and the relieved, caring smile on his face. He was a stark contrast to the dark forest and the raging fire and the star-clustered sky, so comfortable and familiar and beautiful and so entirely Dan that he couldn’t breath. Oh no.  


_Oh no. _  
__

____

Phil was a little bit in love with Dan. Shit.  
He couldn’t think, much less answer, reeling backwards and scrambling to his feet. His heart was racing like he was back inside the lodge, the licking flames and burning smoke replaced by the faces of his classmates and teachers and his own shaking hands. They were staring at him in silence. Time had given up on working properly. Everything was crashing over him in wave after wave after wave; the confusion and fear on their faces, the kids muttering behind their hands, the way some of them took a step back when he took one forward.  


He felt hurt, and afraid, but most of all, he just felt sick. They were looking at him like he was a freak. Dan shouldn’t have been able to lift people into the air. He was in love with his best friend. His imaginary best friend. This really, really wasn’t how he’d wanted this trip to go.  


“Um,” said PJ, breaking the painful silence. “Are you okay?”  


“I’m fine,” Phil answered, taking another step forward, falling onto his face, and passing out.


	6. More Real Problems, Less Imaginary Friends

After that, all Phil could remember as he slipped in and out of consciousness were flashes of light, noise all around him, and that his head felt like someone had shoved a pillow into his skull and left it there. He would forget the first time he really woke up the second he lost consciousness once more. All he really knew was that his mouth felt gross and the lights around him were way too bright, but that he wasn’t moving anymore. Which meant he must have been moving at some point, even if he couldn’t remember it now. All around was one big blur, and he could already feel himself fading again. But before his eyes closed, he caught just a flash of something painfully familiar, that he could recognize in his dreams, or, in this case, half-awake. The bed they were rolling by in had a squeaky wheel. He passed out again.  


The second time he woke up was much, much better, but still not great. His head was clear, even if it hurt, and he knew right away this time that he was in a hospital. It was so much like when he was little, after the crash, that Phil was half convinced for a second that he was dreaming. Then he saw Dan slumped over and sleeping in a chair to his right, sixteen instead of six, and he breathed a sigh of relief. He looked exhausted, but otherwise pretty okay. His clothes were, naturally, undamaged by the fire. Oh. The fire.  


The memories came back to him in a rush, and the relief he’d felt at seeing Dan left him. Everything he’d been trying so hard not to think about was suddenly unavoidable in the hospital, filled only with soft beeping and the quiet voices of nearby patients and nurses. He’d woken up to a world turned sideways.  


First of all, it felt like Phil was losing his mind, or like he’d never had one in the first place. Dan wasn’t supposed to be real, and he definitely wasn’t supposed to be able to move real people around or pull open burning windows. For years, Phil had worked to ignore the way that some things just didn’t make sense, like how other people could see it when Dan held stuff, or how he could play video games against a figment of his own imagination. It was easier to accept that it was just how things were, that everything was normal, than to look at life too closely and risk losing a friend or running into a problem exactly like this one.  


Besides, if Dan wasn’t imaginary, then what was he? Last time he checked, Ghosts didn’t age, and neither of them were five anymore. Besides, he’d been just as ready to believe that he was imaginary, so it was likely that neither of them really knew what he was. If he could lift people into the air and withstand fire, what else could he do?  


The part that really made Phil feel like he was going crazy, though, was the fact that he had feelings for Dan. I mean, how messed up did he have to be to get a crush on a guy who wasn’t even real? Was he really that lonely? So sad that he had to create someone for himself? The thought made him feel pathetic. Maybe there really was something wrong with him, after all. There had to be, why else would he be in love with his own imaginary friend? Or coping mechanism, or not-ghost, or whatever. He wasn’t really sure of anything anymore. Dan had always been his best friend, and even if some things had changed, that was still true. He didn’t feel that same coil of uneasiness anymore, but in it’s place was a whole mess of other, even more confusing feelings.  


“Hey, you’re up! I was starting to worry. Well, I was already worried, but more worried, I guess. You know what I mean.” Dan’s voice cut through his thoughts suddenly, and he looked up to see him wide awake.  


“Dan? How long have I been out? Is everyone okay?” He asked, realizing too late that he was talking out loud, but everyone seemed too distracted to notice. For all he knew, it might have been totally normal for patients to wake up yelling, plus his voice was quiet and scratchy, and he kind of regretted talking. He must have passed out at some point, that much was clear, but did his mom know he was okay? Was school canceled?  


“You inhaled too much smoke, I think. The fire trucks and stuff got there a little bit after that, and I followed the ambulance here. Everyone seemed okay, or at least mostly okay, but I didn’t stick around long.” He paused, and Phil could tell that, whatever was coming next, it wasn’t good news.  


“They, uh... they all kind of saw me, or you, flying around and moving stuff with your mind. At least, that’s what they think it was,” he mumbled, looking away, and Phil’s heart sank. So there really was no getting away from it. Half of him had been hoping that everyone would collectively decide that the whole thing was a smoke induced hallucination, but of course he couldn’t be so lucky.  


“Everyone was saying you had telekinesis or were some kind of superhero, which I think is kinda dumb. Well, some of them were also saying other stuff that’s even more dumb and really not important and you don’t need to know-”  


“Dan, what is it?” Phil’s head was starting to hurt worse, and he wouldn’t want to hear it at all, if Dan hadn’t been so clumsy about avoiding it. He sighed, looking resolutely at the wall by his head instead of his actual face.  


“Well... I don’t know how it happened, because I know you, but when you passed out and the teachers were trying to move you, there was a lighter in your pocket.” If it wasn’t already as low as it could go, he would’ve felt his heart sink. Of course there was.  


“I know you didn’t start it, obviously, but I can’t exactly testify. My best guess for who put it there, and probably started the fire in the first place, is those jerks, you know, Chadley or whatever. They were the ones who blamed you first. They said that you must have started fire for attention, that you wanted to play hero or something. I told you it was dumb, but I think some of them actually believe it. The teachers are trying really hard to keep the whole thing quiet because it makes them look bad, so of course it’ll be all over the school by Monday. I’m sorry.”  


Phil groaned, letting his head fall back onto the bed and staring up at the horrible, ugly white ceiling, wishing that he could just go back to sleep and wake up when things were normal again. When people didn’t look at him twice, when he didn’t have to worry over every little thing, when being with Dan was easy.  


Not that thing had ever really been normal for him, Phil realized, squeezing his eyes shut to keep the room from spinning. He couldn’t even start thinking about going back to school, about having all eyes on him.  


He was lucky to not have to, because a tap-tap-tap from the right got his attention and distracted him. Dan was drumming his fingers against the cheap plastic of the chair he was sitting, well, above, glancing towards the window every few seconds. He looked slightly ill, which couldn’t have been excused by the fire, and Phil felt bad for not noticing sooner, then felt bad for feeling bad. He was one more confusing emotion away from losing it.  


“You didn’t grow out of not liking hospitals?” He asked, mostly to fill the silence, to go through the motions. The answer was obvious.  


“Guess not. They just give me the creeps, I don’t know why. But I’ll be fine. Plus, the nurses were saying you should get let out soon anyway, so it won’t be too bad.” It was, in fact, too bad.  


There suddenly wasn’t a single thing to talk about, conversation stilted and awkward every time they tried, and they were really trying. Neither of them dared to address the fact that the weak truth they’d been relying on for years had effectively been shattered, even though Phil was sure that Dan knew it, too. everything was all tangled up and complicated, and Phil didn’t really feel like poking his issues with a stick, at least until his head stopped hurting. Or ever, really, but that was beside the point.  


Especially not when his feelings for Dan hadn’t changed in the slightest and he had to keep himself from trying to comfort him every time he saw him shiver at the blank walls, the ever-present beeping and hushed voices, and the sickly sterile smell. Each time his heart quickened or he was filled with fondness over tiny little things he’d never noticed or noticed a thousand times, like the way part of his hair sometimes curled down onto his forehead, was just a reminder that something was wrong with him.  


Phil had to remind himself over and over again that Dan wasn’t real, that they didn’t know what he was, but his heart wasn’t a very good listener, apparently. Finally, he gave up, on conversation and fixing his feelings, closing his eyes and forcing himself into a restless sleep.  


His mom came to visit him after that, fussing over him and squeezing him too tightly, even when he lied that he was fine, really. He would have to stay in the hospital for another day or two, just until the doctors were sure that the burns on his feet and arms were healing well. It should’ve been a relief that the school said he didn’t have to go in for another week to recover, but Phil could only wish it was canceled for the rest of his life. There was no way of really knowing what people were saying about him, how they’d react, but he one thing he was sure of was that he didn’t want to find out.  


When he actually got to go home, thing weren’t much better. Time was moving too fast, pushing him towards Monday, except when he was talking to Dan. Then everything was slow and stilted and uncomfortable, both of them trying to pretend that nothing had changed.  


On top of that, he’d been ignoring Louise’s messages and PJ’s calls, not wanting to have to talk about it or hear what everyone was already saying about him. He couldn’t exactly avoid his mother even if he wanted to, seeing as they lived in the same house and she was his mom, but she seemed to understand after the third time he changed the subject away from the fire that this was something he had to deal with himself. He was glad for her support, but it didn’t make things any easier, especially when he finally ran out weekend.  


He’d never felt more alone than walking into school that day, that was for sure. And that was with people crowding the halls, casting him furtive glances and talking in half-hushed voices just barely too quiet for him to hear. It was like something out of a cheesy high school movie, except for the fact that it was actually happening, and to him. Sure, some of them looked impressed and said hi to him when they wouldn’t have before, but others seemed cautious or even afraid, turning to face the wall and shifting away from him as he passed. If he hadn’t expected something like this, it would have been ridiculous. What he wasn’t ready for was every classroom he walked into falling silent.  


It wasn’t like he was a recluse or anything. He said good morning, chatted with the kids around him until the teacher was ready to start, and had people to sit with at lunch. Phil always tried to smile at the kids he’d never spoken to before if they looked sad, and remember people’s names. But everyone was acting like they’d never seen him before, and it was really, really hard to ignore, especially in the incredibly awkward pause until the teacher came in.  


Even then, he could still feel eyes boring into the back of his head, like he was the main attraction in a freak show. He wasn’t sure how true that really was, but it certainly made him feel like it.  


After three more classes of the same thing, lunch should’ve been a relief, but instead the cafeteria got noticeably quieter as he walked to where PJ was waving him over, and lots of people outright stared. They either looked awed or genuinely suspicious, and he couldn’t decide which was worse.  


PJ, however, didn’t seem to mind the staring, wordlessly offering Phil the fruit gummies he liked when he sat down. They didn’t talk just yet, both eating, but the usual hum of lots of teenager together eventually started up again, even if he was pretty sure most of the conversation was about him. After a while, when both of their lunches were gone and there was no longer an excuse for silence, PJ spoke up. His voice was casual but reassuring.  


“Before you came back, the teachers gave everyone a really serious talk about not asking you questions or anything. They’re really trying to keep everything quiet. I heard they even paid off some of the local newspapers not to do a story about the fire. They’d blow everything out of proportion anyway, that’s their job. Not like that’s not already happening anyway, but at least it’s not getting national attention, I guess.” He was rambling a bit, but Phil didn’t mind in the slightest. It was just nice for someone actually talk to him, making him feel less like a roadside attraction.  


“Well, I’ll be on the lookout for the paparazzi, just in case,” Phil joked, and everything was just a little easier. Sure, people were still looking their way, not even bothering to be subtle, but PJ was good at talking about the fire like it was a normal thing and not pushing it when the conversation turned to what Phil had done to help.  


For someone who spent most of his time in fantasy worlds of his own creation, he was surprisingly chill about the fact that his friend was rumored to have superpowers/telekinesis/ a demonic posession problem. (Seriously, Phil was starting to wonder who was coming up with these stories. Demonic possession? _Really? _) All PJ did outside of the ordinary was ask if he was doing okay, and, right as lunch was ending, promise that he knew Phil didn’t start the fire, even if other people didn’t. It was just a little bit easier to finish the school day after that.  
__

____

But they had no classes together, which meant that, the rest of the time, he still felt like an outsider. Sure, PJ had offered to come over after school if he needed company, but Phil knew he was busy with the play, promising once again that he’d be fine. He appreciated that he was trying, and succeeding, in being supportive, but he didn’t want to waste his time of be a burden. Instead he resigned to drowning in his homework. There was a lot he had to catch up on, but at least it was a distraction. And boy, did he need to be distracted.  


He was feeling too much of everything all of the time, and it was a nightmare. Phil tried, he really did, not to let it get to him, to tell himself that it would pass eventually, but nothing seemed to change. People were still incredibly obvious about talking behind his back, he kept hearing the rumors about himself that somehow got even worse each time, and, more than anything else, he was avoided. It felt a little bit like the whole school was playing a game of tag and he was it, except it sucked. Even the teachers were walking on eggshells around him, only calling on him when there were no other hands up and it was obviously weird not to.  


It only strengthened the feeling he’d been trying to push down so hard since the fire, that there was something deeply, irrevocably wrong with him. When no one talked, there was nothing to cloud his mind with, nothing to keep him from thinking that maybe he really was a freak. Whatever he felt for Dan only got twisted up inside his ribcage, making him feel ashamed and some kind of sick. It wasn’t that he was a guy; Phil liked to think that he was pretty comfortable with himself, and he knew his mom would be supportive; it wasn’t even that Dan was his best friend, though it didn’t make things easier. No, that would have all been fine, if he was a real person, or even if they just knew what he was. But he wasn’t, and they didn’t, and Phil just felt worse for it.  


Overall, it felt like his world was ending. Or maybe it had already ended, years ago at a little playground on a sunny day. Either way, some people seemed to appreciate his hand in his own internal apocalypse.  


He found a thank-you note in his locker, taped to a store-bought cookie that was starting to get stale, but it made lunch just a little bit better. Then there were the kids, usually the ones who he’d helped out of the building himself, who bothered to wave at him in the hallway or say hi as they passed, even if their classmates looked at them weird for it. But that was few and far between. Most of the time, he was a mess of confusion, disgust with himself, and stress, all pinprick focused and strong enough to make his head reel.  


Phil knew on some level that talking about it would at least be a start to making it go away, but who could he talk to? As much as PJ and Louise were trying to help, if he told them they wouldn’t believe him at best and think he was losing it at worst. Even if they had the money for a therapist, he wouldn’t know where to start with getting one, and he wasn’t going to pay money just to have someone tell him that he was making stuff up for attention.  


As much as he wanted to, telling his mom wasn’t an option. He could already imagine the concerned look on her face, and he couldn’t stand it. She was always so worried since his dad died, and he couldn’t put her through anything else.  


The only person he could come close to being honest with was Dan, and even then he wouldn’t be able to tell the whole truth. He could imagine how that conversation would go, and it wasn’t well.  


“Hey, Dan, I’m sure you’ve noticed it, but I’m really emotionally distressed right now! It’s because I have no idea if you’re some sort of weird psychic projection or a ghost or literally anything else, everyone thinks I’m either a superhero or possessed, and, oh yeah, I’m also totally in love with you! Even though you might be an actual figment of my imagination!” Yeah, talking about it was not a good idea. Of course, not talking about it was even worse, but he didn’t know that.  


Not that him and Dan were exactly on speaking terms in the first place. Well, they were having conversations, if stunted, awkward ones, but they weren’t talking. Not really. It was different and formal and he hated it more than anything else. They didn’t laugh about dumb inside jokes or have strange, philosophical discussion late at night when they both couldn’t sleep or argue over what to watch on summer mornings, or any of the things that felt like them.  


It was too much like before, like the first time he’d lost Dan. But where he’d felt empty and shut off then, now he was feeling everything too much, close to brimming over. He knew exactly what he was doing wrong, but just couldn’t bring himself to change it. Phil wanted to tell Dan everything he was feeling, knowing he would understand like no one else could, but that was just proof of how much he relied on Dan, how much he needed him around.  


_How much they relied on each other _, said the part of his brain that wasn’t drowning in conflicting emotions suggested, but, like most things, he ignored it. His crush, or feelings, or whatever the hell you wanted to call it had, only gotten stronger, both because he was actually aware of them and and because they weren’t even acting like friends anymore. He needed Dan now more than ever.  
__

____

But every time he was about to say something, anything, to get things back to the way they were supposed to be, gnawing guilt opened him up and put an end to it. He shouldn’t need to talk to Dan about all of this. He should’ve grown out of him, whatever he was.  


Even if he let himself tell just the half-truths, Phil realized, he wouldn’t know where to start. How could he possibly explain how it felt like the locker-lined walls were slowly closing in on him, how, when you hear so many people whisper _freak _, your own mind starts playing along? So he stayed quiet, and Dan didn’t push. He wished he would, sometimes. It felt like they were the only two people in the whole world, but Phil wasn’t sure just how really human either of them were, and he couldn’t talk about it.  
__

____

Every hurt and worry and nagging thought got lodged in the back of his throat, until stress and sadness and fear were slowly compressed into anger. He wanted to cry, or scream, or run away, anything that would undo the knot in his throat. Instead, he kept his head down and his mouth shut, even more than usual, but still nothing changed.  


The school, his house, and the whole town still seemed deathly quiet when he was around, Dan was still his best friend and still felt unreachable, and the tangled mass of emotions in his chest slowly turned to poison. He held his tongue. Phil felt half like a ghost and half like a hurricane, wandering through familiar, stagnant surroundings without really ever touching anything, but seconds away from breaking open and taking everything else with him.  


It was probably for the best that he didn’t actually have any freak powers like everyone thought, or at least not freak powers that weren’t connected to Dan. Dan, who was the house he haunted and the breaking point to his storm.  


It was a Wednesday, almost identical to every other Wednesday for the last three weeks, but Phil somehow woke up feeling even worse than when he’d fallen asleep. Then, at school, he was pulled into the guidance counselor’s office and asked, very, very kindly if there was anything he wanted to talk about, anything at all. On his way to his next class, after promising eight separate times that he was fine and didn’t need to talk, one of the same kids who’d started the fire and got him into this mess in the first shoved past him, pushing him into the lockers, not even bothering to make it look like an accident.  


Phil bit the inside of his mouth to keep from doing anything stupid and ignored the brainless comment on how he wasn’t he didn’t using his weirdo powers to help himself, not wanting to get into an even bigger mess. Home wasn’t any better since his mom had finally heard all the gossip about what had happened at the lodge, which was probably for the best, but her worried questions only made him feel smothered.  


And, through it all, Dan was there, a constant reminder of how much of a freak he really was. By the time they were walking home, Phil felt like he was going to be torn apart, too filled with feelings and buzzing thoughts and sickly shame to stand it for much longer. All he wanted was to go to bed and try to forget about the whole thing, and he definitely did not want to talk about it. Apparently, Dan had joined the whole rest of the world in deciding that was exactly what he needed to do, because the he broke the silence of their walk home from school, talking so softly Phil almost didn’t hear him.  


“Phil? I know we haven’t had a real conversation about any of this, but I think we should. I know everything’s horrible right now and it’s not your fault and I want to help and...” He stopped, took a deep breath, and continued in a voice that was so caring and kind that it went through Phil like glass.  


“I just, I want you to know that you can talk to me, okay? All of what everyone’s saying, it’s not true, and you shouldn’t feel like what some losers at school think of you matters. I know you didn’t start the fire. I’m just sorry I can’t convince anyone, that I can’t do more to help. I can listen, though, and I really think we need to talk. You know you can always rely on me, I-”  


“But I can’t rely on you!” It came out before he could stop himself, and he was gone. Not even the look of shock and hurt on Dan’s face were enough to stop the words pouring out of his mouth.  


What he should’ve said was that he was doubting himself, that he was sorry, that he just wanted to know what to do, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t stand how kind Dan was being. How familiar and comforting it was, or should have been. How the spring-cloudy sky looked behind his reassuring smile and warm eyes.  


He couldn’t stand the way that all of it made his stomach twist with guilt and fear, and all of that pain was just too easy to twist against Dan. It had to be someone else’s fault but his, because he couldn’t stand to keep feeling this for a second longer. So he spat the words out like the poison they were, just so they would stop killing him from the inside out.  


“I can’t trust you because I don’t even know what you are! You shouldn’t be able to do any of this, any of what you’ve done. It doesn’t make sense. I just want to know what you are. But it’s too late, anyway! You’ve already ruined everything for me! I can’t even live my life because everyone thinks I’m a freak, and it’s all your fault!” His hands were clenched at his sides now, and he was yelling, but it was too late to stop.  


“I just wanted to be a normal kid, but instead I got this! Instead of a friend I got some sort of-some sort of monster! None of this ever would have happened if you’d left me alone! I just... I never asked for this, okay? I never wanted this!”  


There was silence for a moment, and then another, and then one more. All he could do was stare at the look of hurt and surprise on Dan’s face, already wishing he could bite back the words. The wind started to blow and the sun was setting, and he watched as his expression turned from pain to something deathly cold and unfamiliar, completely unreadable in a way he never was. Phil was still angry, still needed someone to blame for what he was feeling, but that look was enough to make his stomach turn. They stared at each other for a moment longer.  


Then Dan disappeared.  


It wasn’t like he stormed off, or flew away. He was just... gone, like he’d never been there at all. Before he even knew it was happening, Phil really was alone. All of the anger left him as his mind raced to catch up with his eyes, and he looked around, uncomprehending.  


“Dan?” Phil whispered, the words caught in the wind.  


He couldn’t really be gone, could he? That wasn’t how it worked. He was just trying to get Phil to feel bad and apologize. He’d pop out from behind something as soon as he thought it would be a surprise. That had to be it, because Dan couldn’t just disappear like that. He wasn’t supposed to.  


He told himself that, even if something in him had already given up. As he sighed, tossing his bag over his shoulder and continuing the walk home, nothing changed. Dan didn’t reveal himself, there was no feeling of being watched, and no matter how hard he listened, he couldn’t hear the tell-tale laughter or breathing that would tip him off that Dan was there.  


He did his homework, the room silent and cold around him, and went to bed early, still trying to pretend that he was hiding somewhere around. The lights in the treehouse stayed off, and Phil covered his face with his hands so he could pretend that his room was filled with the comforting glow. Sleeping was out of the question, so he stared at the undersides of his palms and tried not to think. It was ten after four when it finally hit him.  


_Dan was gone _. Dan was gone, and it was just like before and completely different. Nothing made sense, and his world was crumbling at the edges, for real this time. It was still his fault, it was all Dan’s fault, it was both. He wanted him there, but he wanted him gone. He was a freak, there was nothing wrong with him. There was nothing he could have done, he could have done everything better. Dan was his best friend. Dan was his best friend.  
__

____

He shot up in bed, his heart racing. Losing him _was _different this time. It wasn’t slow and quiet like before. He’d just vanished, gone before Phil had even gotten his breath back from yelling. All he’d been left with was the cracked sidewalk, old trees, grey houses, and emptiness of his neighborhood. The events played through his head on repeat, like a tape he just couldn’t stop, the detached, cold look he’d worn in that second searing itself into his consciousness.  
__

______ _ _

As he stared at the abyss of his ceiling, a horrible thought came to him. If Dan really was imaginary, had he... had he killed him? If that was even possible, he didn’t know. But if he was something else, more than that, where had he gone? Would he ever come back? The more he thought, the less he knew for sure.  


______ _ _

Everything seemed to get blurred inside his head, but, through the panicked haze, he was sure of one thing. Dan wouldn’t come back. Not this time. Why would he, after everything Phil had said to him? Done to him? He didn’t deserve that many chances, not after he’d made the same mistakes over and over again. This was all his fault, not Dan’s.  


______ _ _

Phil didn’t even realize he was crying until the tears were dripping down his face and the sun was just starting to shine in through the window. The treehouse stayed empty. 

______ _ _


	7. Violence is Never the Answer, Except When it is

If Phil had felt alone before, it was nothing like this. His classmates weren’t acting any different, still treating him like a time bomb, and the whole world still felt like it was ending. What was different was that there was no one to face it with him. The whispers and stares didn’t matter anymore, though, passing right through him like he was the one without a body.  


What mattered was that Dan was gone, and it was all his fault. It was his fault that there was no one to walk with him when the lunchroom fell silent, that there no comforting presence over his shoulder, that they couldn’t spend the afternoons laughing and talking like they should’ve been. All the little things they’d shared, from their make-believe games as children to the hours they’d spent playing video games and laughing to the comfortable space between them when they lay on the dusty floor of the treehouse on summer nights and just watched the stars, he would never have again. They weren’t his anymore.  


He even missed the rough patches, the times where some trivial disagreement lead to yelling and slammed windows and sometimes not talking for a day or two, both holing up in their rooms until being angry lost its appeal. He missed the way, when a patch of nightmares would hit one of them, they could always wake the other up to talk it through, or just to wait out the night together. He couldn’t count the number of times he’d woken up to flashing headlights and screeching breaks, heart racing in his chest and a yell for his dad to be careful halfway out of his mouth. In turn, he knew that Dan’s nightmares of blank hospital walls and beeping and being left behind, all alone in the dark, were even more frequent that his own. Remembering that made something in his chest tighten, squeezing in until it felt like he was actually choking instead of just choking up. His history paper stared back up at him from the desk, half-finished and bleak.  


It was more clear than ever that it didn’t matter in the slightest what Dan was, what either of them were. Not when they were apart. Not when he had no idea where he was, if he was okay, or if Dan even was, and it was all his fault. It made everything a little more painful and a little more numb at all once.  


He was so distracted that he didn’t notice the way his mother had been watching him, all worried eyes and tight lips, like she was trying not to say something. Of course Phil knew that she was worrying about him, how could he not? The kitchen was always full of the favorite foods he didn’t feel like eating and she had even stopped making him do chores.  


He hated to make her worry, wanting more than anything to tell her that he was fine and really mean it, but he’d never been a good liar. Either way, he wasn’t expecting her to talk about any of it, much less ask him out of the blue what he remembered about Grandma.  


“I know we only got to visit her every once in awhile, but you two were very close when you were little,” She explained, eyeing him over the plate of carrots, and it was sudden enough to make him pay attention.  


“Um... I remember that she used to make really great sugar cookies, and she let me help decorate the tree the time we stayed over for Christmas, even though I’d already dropped a box of ornaments and gotten glass everywhere. And I remember that she used to tell really good stories, about ghosts and magic and stuff,” He said, unsure if it was what she wanted to hear, but his mother smiled fondly at the memory.  


“Well, it’s about her stories, actually. Your grandma was a very... peculiar woman. She used to tell me the same things, about how our little town was strange, but I never believed her.” She paused to take a deep breath, more serious now, and he was definitely worried about where this was going.  


“Phil, I know something’s going on with you, and I know it’s something big. It really is a small town, and news gets around fast. I don’t know exactly what happened, or why, but I know that something _did _happen during the field trip. I wanted to tell that I’m here for you, even if you don’t want to talk. Trust me, I’d believe a lot more than you might think, even if it sounds crazy, and it’s thanks to your grandma. I didn’t want her to tell you any more than stories, but she always said something about how she was closer to the ‘other side’ or whatever.” She did air quotes, waving her hands around in a way that showed she only half-believed what she was saying, and Phil stared blankly.  
__

____

__“Mom?”  
_ _

__“I mean to say that Grandma just knew about things that other people didn’t, like when it would rain next or that Hank would cheat on Sue with Greta or that something bad would happen, and she was never wrong. More than that, she saw things that other people didn’t notice, or just couldn’t see. I’m not sure if they were really invisible or just hidden in some way, but I never saw them until she’d already pointed them out. I could never do things the way she did, and I didn’t believe in any of it.  
_ _

__“But as soon as you were born, even I was able to tell that you were like her. You were such a creative little boy, always telling stories about the things you saw and what was going to happen, and, most of the time, you’d be right. I was-and am-so proud of you, Phil, and I always will be. But I was also scared of how other people would react, that something bad would happen. Something like this. So I decided that you were just imaginative and tried not to think about it too much. ”  
_ _

__That, Phil thought, was a method of dealing with problems that seemed to run in the family. The next thing he thought was an incoherent jumble of words as he tried to process everything he’d just been told. Was there really something special about him? It didn’t seem possible at first, but why would his mom lie about something so strange? Still, it just didn’t make sense.  
_ _

__Then he thought once more about listening to his grandma’s stories when he was little, wrapped in a blanket and sipping hot cocoa in winter or swinging back and forth on the porch during the hot days of summer. He thought about the way her eyes would light up as she told the very best part, how every little detail had made it more real, how he’d believed in every word she said with all the conviction he had in his small body. Those stories had always left him buzzing with a strange sort of energy, a sureness that there really was magic all around him, murmuring beneath his feet and in the wind and in the stars. He’d felt, without any doubt, that he was a part of that, a part of something more.  
_ _

__All of that being true wouldn’t be any weirder than the rest of his life, he decided, at least mostly convinced. Then the way Dan would have made fun of him for taking the idea seriously hit him, and the brief happiness the memories had brought him melted away. If what his mother was saying was true, then Dan was right out of those same stories. It was too late for that to matter, though, except to remind Phil of what he’d never have back. His heart ached all over again.  
_ _

__His mother must have noticed, because she said, “Phil, are you okay? I know it’s a lot to take in, and I probably sound crazy, but it’s true. Your grandma had a gift, and I’ve always known you were the same, even if you don’t believe me.”  
_ _

__“I believe you, I really do. It’s not that,” He assured, but he didn’t know where to start with explaining what really was wrong. It all just felt like too much, like she wouldn’t understand, like it wouldn’t make sense, no matter if she’d just told him something twice as weird as the words knotted on his tongue. Again and again, he almost started talking, but the words were never right. In the end, it was his mom who broke the silence.  
_ _

__“It’s about Dan, isn’t it? You know, I was sure right away that he wasn’t just a normal imaginary friend, that he was real like the things your grandma would show me. Was I right?” She asked, no more than a whisper, and there was no keeping it in anymore. Phil was talking before he even knew what he was saying, what he would tell her. All he knew was that he couldn’t stop and that his mother’s face slowly softened and she pulled him into a tight hug, still talking.  
_ _

__He told her about how Dan had promised to stay with him after the car crash, how they’d been closer than ever, how it had felt like things would be that bright forever. About how Dan could move things, make himself float, and how hard it had been not to talk to him outloud in public, just because of how real he seemed. Phil told her about what had really happened during the field trip, and how, when he’d woken up in the hospital afterwards, the world had been upside down. It didn’t hurt anymore to explain that all the other kids knew what had happened with him, or at least whatever story had been spread around. It was almost easy to describe how they looked at him like he was either a magic trick or something dangerous.  
_ _

__The part that burned was forcing the same words he’d said to Dan out of his mouth. Somehow, they sounded even more cruel, more sad, without all that built up stress and anger behind them. He couldn’t even describe the way Dan’s face had turned cold before he disappeared, just that he was gone in the blink of an eye. This time, he knew he was going to cry before it happened, but he still couldn’t stop it.  
_ _

__Phil knew that, somewhere in there, he’d stumbled over his feelings for Dan without thinking, but his mother’s worried face only stayed sympathetic when he explained how that had only made him feel even more messed up. It didn’t matter now, anyway. There wasn’t any point in trying to hide anything, not that there ever had been. Besides, she was his mother, and she’d find out everything at some point anyway.  
_ _

__It was worth it when she pulled him into a tight hug, soothing him. He would’ve felt silly, being treated like an upset little kid, if he didn’t need it so bad. As always, having someone else know was better. She believed him, even when he still had trouble believing himself.  
_ _

__But it didn’t bring Dan back. He was starting to think that nothing could. Knowing that it wouldn’t help didn’t stop him from following their old routines, hoping that acting like everything was fine would make it so. Or he’d do things he knew Dan hated, wishing that he’d pop out of nowhere to complain. More than anything, he went to the treehouse.  
_ _

__Crossing the worn rope ladder from his bedroom to the window didn’t quite feel like an adventure anymore, but it felt like going home. He was there even more than the house, sitting at the cheap yellow desk that they’d gotten as kids and never bothered to throw away to do his homework, or looking through the pages and pages of scribbled out doodles and stories they’d written, always laughing too much and writing too fast for the words to make much sense. The memories made him smile, but they also made the emptiness in his chest get even bigger, even heavier. He sat back on the floor and stared up at the stars, or out the window to watch the breeze blow through the same streets they’d played and walked to school on.  
_ _

__The space felt more like Dan than anything else, from the fairy lights meant to chase away the dark to the black and white pillows piled in the corner to the few posters he’d tacked up on one wall. The only difference was that it was empty now. More often than not, Phil fell asleep in the treehouse, curled up on the floor with his face pressed against the cold wood. He didn’t have the energy to drag himself away from the last piece of Dan he had left, even if it was just another reminder.  
_ _

__School was still mandatory, though, and that required moving. It wasn’t nearly as bad as before, but he hardly noticed. The gossip had moved away from him and onto the usual stuff, like who was cheating on who and what girl was being called easy for losing her virginity, while the guy she’d slept with was clapped on the back. Most people were talking to Phil normally again, probably realizing he wasn’t going to freak out and explode things with his mind or something just as ridiculous, and even the most cautious teachers were calling on him again.  
_ _

__Everything was going back to normal. There was no trying desperately not to think about his problems, weird sense that something bad was going to happen, or imaginary friend floating next to him and making sarcastic comments. For once in his life, he really was ordinary. It wasn’t that great, Phil decided.  
_ _

__Everything felt like a daze without Dan. He still had PJ and Louise, and they were more than he could ever ask for, but he was different, and not because he was probably some sort of supernatural occurrence or something. They knew each other better than anyone else ever could. It felt like his life was half Dan’s. They’d always been so close, and it just wasn’t fair that things could end like this. The guilt ate away at him, and there was nothing him or anyone else could do.  
_ _

__It made focusing on anything hard, even the fact that he wasn’t being treated like a monster anymore. Actually, he was so distracted that he didn’t notice that only three people were still determined to act like he was a freak.  
_ _

__The real problem was that he didn’t even realize he was being followed home from school one day. By the time he actually noticed that something was wrong, it was too late.  
_ _

__His backpack was heavy on his shoulders as he walked, eyes trained on the pavement beneath him but unseeing. Phil must’ve been especially absorbed in his thoughts about whether or not he’d ever see Dan again, because three loud, obnoxious, teenage boys managed to get close enough to push him into an empty lot without him realizing they were even there. Before he knew what was happening, he was stumbling back against an old fence, facing Brado, Chadley, and Trevon.  
_ _

Oh my god, Phil thought, I still don’t know their actual names. It was kind of hilarious, at least until he saw their expressions. Their faces were twisted with cruel anger or satisfaction, and he felt a spike of fear course through him.  


Instinctively, he put his hands up, but to placate them or defend himself, he wasn’t sure. They had him surrounded, there was hardly anyone around to find them, and the traffic of passing cars would block any noise he made. Fuck.  


___“Uh, fancy meeting you here?” He said, the words sounding more like a question than anything as they came out of his stupid, stupid mouth. Yeah, exactly what you’re supposed to say when cornered by a bunch of sketchy rich kids. Somehow, they didn’t seem too fazed by his awkward commentary, mostly just angry.  
_ _ _

___“Cut the act, Lester. We know what you really are,” Spat the one to his left. Trevon, maybe? They all looked pretty similar, with their expensive shoes and spiky hair. Which really, really shouldn’t have been his main concern. It was quite a possibility that the stress was getting to him.  
_ _ _

___“What I really am? What does that mean?” They glanced at one another, and he pushed himself further back against the fence, splinters or not.  
_ _ _

___“We all saw you during the camping trip. You’ve got, like, freak powers or whatever. So don’t play dumb,” The one on the right (Chadley?) was slowly inching closer, and Phil really did not like the way his hand was behind his back. Panic was starting to build in his chest, and it wouldn’t be long before he’d stop finding dumb things amusing and start freaking out. Actually, he might already be freaking out, it was kind of hard to tell.  
_ _ _

___“Okay, uh, that was just a misunderstanding. I can’t do anything like that, so how about I just go right over here--” He rambled, taking a jerky step towards the edge of the fence and the safety of the street, only to jerk back as Chadley lunged forward, blocking his way. The middle one, Brado, stepped closer to him, eyes glinting in a way that made Phil’s stomach turn.  
_ _ _

___“Innocent kids flying through the air is just a misunderstanding, huh? Cause it sure looked like you were controlling it to me.”  
_ _ _

___“I was getting them away from the fire!” He bit back, struggling to understand the fact that they were literally threatening him for trying to save lives. Brado just continued like he hadn’t said anything at all.  
_ _ _

___“And what else can you do? With that kind of power, a lot of people could get hurt. Who’s to say you won’t have a freakout in science class and end up killing someone? You could go off at any moment, it’s just not safe. Face it, you’re a menace.” His voice was painfully casual, as though every word he said was logical and not just nonsense.  
_ _ _

___Phil had no idea how to respond; he knew that none of it was true, but how could he explain that it wasn’t even him with the powers? Not that he would throw Dan under the bus, but even if he did, they wouldn’t believe him.  
_ _ _

___“That’s ridiculous! Look, I really can’t do anything special, so just let me go. I promise I won’t tell anyone about this, or that you started the fire.” He knew his voice was shaking, but he tried to hold his gaze evenly and seem a little more sure of himself than he felt. Somehow, running into a burning building was so much easier than this.  
_ _ _

“Oh, but we can’t do that. You’re dangerous, remember? It would be _immoral _to let you just walk away when you could end up hurting someone. We’re basically doing a public service here. Now show us what you can do, freak.”  
__

____

___“Yeah, make something float!” Said Trevon, pulling out his phone and pointing at him.  
_ _ _

___“Dude, shut up, that’s stupid,” Groaned Chadley, and Phil was kinda hoping they’d fight it out so he could make his escape, but of course he couldn’t be that lucky.  
_ _ _

___“Both of you, shut up. Hurry up and use your powers, Lester, we don’t have all day,” Brado ordered, and he sighed internally.  
_ _ _

___“I told you, I don’t have any powers.” They were starting to get closer to him now, and his heart was racing. The only thing he could think of was convincing them that he really was normal, for the moment at least, but they didn’t really seem like good listeners.  
_ _ _

___“Yeah, and I totally don’t have a switchblade I’m supposed to threaten you with. Oh, shit, that was gonna be a surprise.” Chadley looked incredibly conflicted over how to deal with his mistake, and Phil might have felt a little bad for him if he wasn’t about to threaten him with a switchblade.  
_ _ _

___“Well it’s not a surprise anymore, so just take it out!” Brado sighed, and, yep, Chadley did in fact have a knife, which he knew because it was out and pointed right at him. Okay. His hands were definitely shaking now, and he certainly didn’t have any sympathy for them.  
_ _ _

___“You really don’t have a choice here. Just show us what you can do, before anyone gets hurt. And by anyone I mean you.” They were dangerously close to him now, but he didn’t dare look away from the knife.  
_ _ _

___“I can’t do anything! Don’t you think that, if I had any powers, I would’ve gotten away by now?”  
_ _ _

___“Oh yeah, because that wouldn’t totally mess up the innocent bystander routine you’re going for. We already know you’re a freak, we just need proof so everyone else will know it too,” He said, gesturing to Trevon holding the phone, who gave a thumbs up. Once again, it would have been funny if he wasn’t in very real danger.  
_ _ _

___“I can’t, is that really so hard to understand?” He was half yelling now, hyped up on fear and desperation.  
_ _ _

___Wrong answer, apparently. Brado waved his hand in a way that made it obvious he was trying really hard to look cool, and Phil found his arms held behind his back, knife dangerously close to his throat before he could even react. Curse his bad reflexes.  
_ _ _

For two dumb, not-very-athletic dudes, Chadley and Trevon were surprisingly strong, and his frantic struggling did nothing but make their hands tighten. He realized that, when he got away, he’d have bruises. _If _he got away, Phil realized, breathing too fast as his eyes darted around the empty lot. There was no way out.  
__

____

___His shaking fingers balled into fists as he stared them down, clenched so tightly that he could feel little half-moon marks forming where his nails bit into skin. He was scared out of his mind, and angry that this was the thanks he got for trying to help, but losing his head would only make things worse. He took a deep breath, resisted the intense urge to scream, and let it out.  
_ _ _

___“Let go of me. I’m telling the truth, I promise,” He gritted out, forcing himself to meet Brado’s eyes just so he didn’t have to see the silver flash of the knife as it moved.  
_ _ _

___He could feel the rough surface of the wood scraping against his wrists where they were forced against the fence, the late spring breeze doing nothing to soothe him, and all three pairs of eyes boring into him. It was almost evening, the sunlight shining golden through the leaves of the one scraggly tree in the lot. It would have been pretty, if he wasn’t convinced that he was going to die here.  
_ _ _

___If Phil had been thinking rationally, it would’ve been clear to him that these guys weren’t capable of murder, with their lack of work ethic and ugly, expensive shoes, but it was really hard to think rationally with a knife pointed at you.  
_ _ _

___They definitely weren’t above injury, though, and he’d seen proof of that. Not that any of that could really matter to him when he all he could think about was just how screwed he was.  
_ _ _

___He shut his eyes and waited, for more insults or a fist across his face or the sting of cold metal, whatever came first. He got none of those things. Instead, a very familiar voice interrupted the racing of his heart.  
_ _ _

___“He really is telling the truth, you know,” Said Dan. His voice came from somewhere distinctly above him and to the left. It was clear instantly that Phil wasn’t the only one who’d heard him, as Chadley, Brado, and Trevon were staring right over him, eyes wide and mouths open. They’d just happened to let him go, and he wasted no time in spinning around.  
_ _ _

___Sure enough, Dan was floating above the fence, hands casually shoved into his jacket pockets and smiling in a way that would’ve been cool, if Phil didn’t immediately know just how hard he was trying to look casual. It worked on the boys behind him, though, judging from their reactions.  
_ _ _

___“Wha-- who are you?” Brado asked, voice shrill, Chadley’s mouth opened and closed like a suffocating fish as he tried to form words, and Trevon just made some strange gurgling noise. Phil couldn’t blame them; he couldn’t think of anything to say either, and he was used to Dan. What he wasn’t used to was other people being able to see him. But there wasn’t any time left to think about it, not when Dan apparently hadn’t planned his heroic entrance beyond, well, the entrance.  
_ _ _

___“Oh, um, that doesn’t matter!” He stuttered, still in a dramatic voice, and Phil had to resist the urge to roll his eyes, even if he was still freaking out internally.  
_ _ _

___“What matters is that you really should have believed him when he said he didn’t have any powers. And, y’know, _not _threatened him with a knife. Seriously, he risked his life to physically drag you assholes out of a burning building, and you think, hey, let’s be complete jerks in return!” Dan was waving his hands around in emphasis now, and it was so very familiar that it made Phil’s chest hurt.  
___ _ _

___He was exceptionally thankful that it was only feelings hurting him, and not, say, a knife. While he’d been thinking, the boys had collected themselves, though not very well. All they’d managed to do was clump together, really obviously trying not to look terrified as Brado brandished the knife in front of them.  
_ _ _

___“Hey, we’re the good guys here! He’s dangerous, I mean, you’re dangerous. It doesn’t matter! We just wanted to help!” He said, voice shaking, and Phil could tell that he wasn’t really convincing himself, not anymore. Dan seemed to think the same thing, snapping his fingers, and the still-filming phone Trevon had been clumsily hiding behind his back shattered into pieces.  
_ _ _

___“Uh huh, then why did you decide to film yourselves beating up some poor kid, instead of, say, taking it someone who actually knows what they’re doing? Or did you just want a little excitement? But you’re right about one thing: I am dangerous.”  
_ _ _

Phil actually did roll his eyes at that, because, seriously? _Dan _, dangerous? He could hardly sleep without some sort of light on and felt bad for not saying thank you to the lady who held the door for Phil, even though she couldn’t even hear him. He wasn’t going to hurt anyone. But, if not remotely dangerous, he was certainly a very good actor. It was only because Phil knew him so well that his cold stare and casual manner weren’t intimidating in the slightest. Chadley, Brado, and Trevon, on the other hand...  
__

____

___They practically squealed when the phone broke, jumping back like the pieces of glass, already safety on the ground, were burning them. Their yells turned into all out screaming when, slowly, and Phil knew it was secretly very carefully, Brado was lifted into the air.  
_ _ _

____

___He hovered, just a few feet above the ground, for a moment, frozen from the shock. Then, almost comically, he looked down at his floating feet, up again at Dan, and then down once more. His eyes widened, and it was painfully clear that he was trying not to lose what little composure he had left. To his credit, he managed to stare right back at Dan as he spoke, though his gaze kept flitting towards the ground.  
_ _ _

____

___“Are you crazy? Put me down!” His voice came out shrill and frantic.  
_ _ _

____

___“I will, but only if all three of you promise not to try anything like this again. Actually, just leave us alone all together, huh? You can keep living your bland, meaningless lives in one piece, and I don’t have to bother with any of, well, this,” He said, gesturing to all three boys, and Brado swayed from side to side with the motion.  
_ _ _

____

___He was scowling instead of screaming, though, and for a second, it seemed like he would hold his ground and Dan would be caught by his own empty threats. Then Phil saw his eyes drop to the smashed phone, in a hundred tiny pieces (he hoped it wasn’t expensive for a second, then remembered that these guys would be able to buy as many phones they wanted without having to worry about next week’s groceries or an emergency), and his shoulders drooped in defeat.  
_ _ _

____

___“Fine, we promise. We won’t bother you again.” It probably wasn’t likely that they would’ve anyway, from the way that Chadley and Trevon were shaking like leaves, and how fast all three of them scampered away the moment Brado was safely on the ground. Phil watched them go, but even though he was safe now, his heart was still pounding too fast against his rib cage.  
_ _ _

____

___He didn’t dare turn around and face Dan, on the chance that he never been there at all. It was almost too much, to be pulled from his daze and into a danger that was real and dagger sharp, and seeing Dan again on top of it all... Phil would’ve thought he had fallen asleep in class and started dreaming, if he couldn’t still feel an ache in his shoulders from being shoved against the fence. He took a deep breath and bracing himself for disappointment, or surprise, or really anything at all.  
_ _ _

____

___When he turned around, Dan was gone._ _ _

____


	8. Dogs (and Friendship) Are the Best Motivation

At least, that’s what he thought for the split second it took him to realize that he’d just moved from above the fence to his level, floating right in front of him. He looked just as afraid as Phil felt, all casual coolness gone and nervous fidgeting in its place. For a moment, they just stood, looking at each other without saying a word.  


Phil wanted to say something, or apologize until there wasn’t anything left to be sorry for, or hug him, or run away, or all of them at once. He was somewhere between fighting back a smile and fighting back tears, and his face didn’t seem to want to make up its mind. Luckily, Dan chose for him.  


He smiled, just a little bit, and it was nervous and awkward and like coming home. Phil could never have helped smiling back, even if he wanted to.  


“Hi,” Dan said, shoving his hands farther into his pockets.  


“Hi, Dan,” He answered, smiling even more. There was silence for another long, aching moment. Then they both started talking at once.  


“That wasn’t too much with the whole floating thing--” Dan started.  


“Listen, I know you don’t have to forgive me--” Phil said at the same time, until they realized the other was talking in broke off again, laughing, just a little more comfortable than before.  


“You go first.”  


“Hey, why do I have to go first?” Phil joked, but he knew that trying to out-polite each other was the last thing they needed.  


“Okay, fine.” Why was saying the words he’d rehearsed for weeks suddenly so hard? He took a deep breath and shut his eyes so he could, for once in his life, pretend Dan wasn’t there.  


“What I wanted to say was that I know I don’t deserve to be forgiven, at all, and I understand if you totally never want to see me again. But I wanted to say that I’m sorry. I was being selfish, and I was so worried about my own problems that I forgot to think about how you’d feel. I took everything out on you, even though you were just trying to be a good friend, and I shouldn’t have done that. So even if you think I’m a total jerk and hate my guts, I still wanted to say that I’m sorry.  


“I’m sorry I was a horrible friend, and I’m sorry that you had to put up with me, and I’m really, really sorry that I said you ruined my life. If anything, you’re the best part of my life. I couldn’t deal with, well, any of this without you. You’re my best friend, and I never should have let all of the crazy things happening change that. I just-- I’m sorry,” He trailed off, staring at the ground like his life depended on it, with no idea if he’d made things better or worse by saying anything. When he looked up, though, Dan was just staring at him with his mouth wide open.  


“Oh, uh,” He mumbled, jerkily scratching at the back of his neck. “I was just gonna ask if I overdid it with the whole making that kid float thing, but now I’m thinking that was probably not the most important thing to say.”  


“Oh my god, I just made things awkward again, didn’t I?”  


“No, no! Well, actually, you did a little bit, but that’s fine. And you’re right, it’s about time we had an actual conversation. First of all, were you being a total asshole? Absolutely. Do you deserve to be forgiven? Eh,” He shrugged, and Phil felt his heart sink.  


“But am I willing to forgive you? Of course. Phil, you were dealing with, like, eight different horrible things at once, I can’t blame you for freaking out. You’re not a horrible friend, you’re just human. And I do know that a lot of this stuff wouldn’t have happened without me being around, so it’s at least a little bit my fault. What I shouldn’t have done was leave when you needed me, or at least not for quite so long. I made a promise, remember?” He held out his hand, pinky finger extended, and Phil smiled as he did the same, locking their pinkies together.  


“And you haven’t broken it. You came back.” He didn’t even bother to try and keep from smiling. It was a huge weight off of his chest to be forgiven, even if there was still a little bit of guilt in his heart. They’d have time to talk things out properly in the future, because there was a future again, and he wasn’t going to give up on tomorrow so easily anymore.  


“Yeah, I thought you were probably getting lonely without me. Really though, I thought things out and decided it wasn’t fair for me to leave like that without an explanation, especially when you were dealing with so much. I wasn’t really expecting you to have gotten into this much trouble, though. Seriously, I’m gone for, what, two weeks? And you’re getting threatened with a knife! You totally can’t make it without me, huh?” He teased, and Phil rolled his eyes.  


“You don’t know the half of it. Oh yeah, how did you make those guys see you, anyway? Because they definitely could, and last time I checked, that wasn’t normal. Or not our normal, at least.”  


“About that... while I was gone, I didn’t have much to do besides practice on, like, moving stuff around and controlling things. Well, that and people watch, but you can only see the old man from two blocks over buy pasta sauce or listen to the PTA moms trash talk each other so many times before it gets boring. Anyway, I wasn’t even trying to make anyone see me the first time it happened. I was just watching Mrs. Keys throwing toys for her dogs--seriously, she has like nine corgis, it’s great-- and I reeeeally wanted to pet them, and, before I knew it, they all started running towards me and barking.  


“Then she started screaming because some random kid had just magically appeared in her backyard and was floating around petting her dogs. I made myself invisible to her again, and from there I just started practicing. Now’s the first time I managed to get three people to see me and hear me all at once, actually. It takes a lot of work, and I can’t do it too often yet.” He explained, and, sure enough, his feet were drifting closer and closer to the pavement, the usual floating just a little too taxing.  


“Somehow, I’m not surprised that you willed yourself into visibility just to pet some dogs,” Phil said, smiling. Still, it only added to the fact that Dan was... well, real, and not just to him.  


If he looked too closely at his own feelings, he’d find that he was maybe a little jealous-- no, _disappointed _, he told himself-- that he wasn’t the only one who could see Dan anymore. But he was very, very good at ignoring his own feelings by this point, and he could keep doing it a little longer.  
__

____

For a moment, they were left in silence again, but instead of being awkward, it was comfortable once more. It reminded Phil of lazy saturday mornings, where they had nothing better to do than sit and watch anime, in a familiar, too-tired-to-talk-but-still-want-to-spend-time-with-you silence. He couldn’t help but smile again, for real this time. 

“So, when you yelled at me, you were right about one thing,” Dan started, pushing on before Phil could insist that he had been completely in the wrong and start apologizing again.  


“No, really. I don’t know what I am. I just assumed that I was just imaginary, because it was easier to pretend than to talk about it and risk scaring you. But it’s too late to keep pretending, not after everything that’s happened. Last time I checked, other people couldn’t see imaginary friends, so I’m probably not one.”  


It took Phil a second to collect his thoughts, he was so stunned to hear the truth out in the open air instead of in the back of his head. How true it was was clear enough in the anxiousness in Dan’s eyes and how long they’d both known it. It was nice to actually be able to have a conversation, though, and he wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth.  


__“Yeah. And I don’t think you’re a ghost, because ghosts don’t usually age, and you’d probably know if you were dead.”__  
“I know I’m sure dead inside!” Dan said, finger gunning, and Phil just sighed, working really hard not to smile. He’d really, really missed this, but he didn’t have to give Dan the satisfaction of knowing that. “But, no, I don’t really feel dead, whatever that means. Plus I don’t really think I have any unfinished business, and that’s usually why ghosts stick around in the first place, right? Also, ghosts aren’t real.”  


“I don’t understand how you can say that ghosts aren’t real when you are. Still, what else is there? If you’re not dead, do you like... have a body somewhere? Or are you just totally noncorporeal?” Dan shrugged, putting one hand on his forehead and furrowing his eyebrows.  


“If I knew, that would definitely make things a lot easier.”  


“Well, what’s the last thing you remember, before we met? You must’ve been somewhere.” Dan hmmd, pacing back and forth, and then all the way out of the empty lot and out onto the sidewalk to scan his surroundings. Phil trailed behind him, not wanting to interrupt whatever train of thought he was hitching a ride on. Fortunately, he didn’t have to wait long until Dan was walking again, feet occasionally slipping down into the pavement when he lost focus, but he didn’t seem to notice.  


“The playground is this direction, right?” He called over his shoulder, and Phil didn’t even have to look up to know he was right. He’d lived in this neighborhood his whole life, and even if it had seemed huge and exciting when they were little, it really wasn’t that big. Walking to school nearly every day helped, too. It wasn’t long until they reached the playground, and he couldn’t help but to smile when he saw it.  


Like most things, it looked a lot smaller now. The cheap paint was cracked in places, one of the swings was barely hanging off of a rusted chain, and there was more sand outside of the sandbox than in it, but he wouldn’t change it for anything. It had always been a special treat to walk to the park with a bag full of snacks and spend all afternoon there, just like the day they’d met.  


Having Dan with him was another reason the park brought back so many memories; something about it made him feel like a kid again, even if they were just walking through the playground normally instead of climbing over the monkey bars or going down the slide. It seemed so long ago that he’d been nervous about the other kids and decided to be friends with a sad looking little boy, something bittersweet curling inside him. Dan sat on a worn little bench next to the sandbox, looking around.  


“Let’s see, I hung around here for a few days, ‘cause it was the only place with other kids, but before that... I don’t really remember much.” He bit his lip, fingers drumming into the slightly rotted wood of the bench as he thought, and Phil wished that he’d asked Dan about where he came from when they first met, instead of years later when the memories had faded. But something seemed to click for him anyway, and he snapped his fingers.  


“You know what? I don’t remember _anything _past a week or two before we met. I know I must have had a childhood, even if I can’t remember it, but there’s nothing before that. All I can remember is walking around in the parking lot of the hospital all alone and no one being able to hear me. Oh, the hospital! That’s something, right?” And he was off again, shooting to his feet.  
__

____

It was the closest he’d seen Dan to voluntarily running in years, but Phil couldn’t blame him. To not know where you came from, what you were, who your family was, or even if you had a family... it was no wonder that he was excited.  


They reached the hospital in record time, and Phil realized that he never paid attention to to the outside of it, probably because he’d only ever been conscious when leaving it. It wasn't very big, with a few family members and patients bustling to and from their cars. It was a local hospital, so most of the doctors and nurses had lived in town their whole lives and greeted their patients by name. In the light of day, with no headache or feeling of hazy, impending doom, it didn’t seem exactly scary, if full of bad memories. Dan clearly didn’t feel the same way; he couldn’t take his wide eyes off the entrance and his fingers were still drumming a chaotic rhythm against his leg.  


“Ugh, I--”  


_I know, you hate this place. But does it remind you of anything? _He thought, mindful of the people around them. Dan glared at him halfheartedly for interrupting, but it seemed to break him out of his hesitation, and he actually looked around. Phil waited with baited breath; what if this was it? Would they finally find out what the was going on? Unfortunately, the answer to both these questions was no. Dan just shuddered, shaking his head.  
__

____

“It’s familiar, but nothing specific is coming back to me. All I know is that I want to get out of here as fast as possible, and never come back, ever. I’m kinda wishing that this wasn’t the first thing I remember,” He muttered, clearly trying to hide his disappointment, not there were was any point when they knew each other so well.  


For half a second, though, Phil almost-sorta-just-barely-didn’t remember something that felt like a dream. Dan didn’t like hospitals. Huh. He squinted up at the stone walls of the building with the distinct feeling of almost falling down the stairs but catching yourself at the last second. It was so, so close. His head had hurt, and there were flashes of white, something else... and it was gone. He groaned, putting his face in his hands to block out the world around him. It was important! He knew it was, but he also knew that whatever he couldn’t remember wasn't coming back.  


“Woah, you okay? I thought I was the one who was supposed to be having some kind of soul-searching flashback experience,” Dan asked, his hand cold and soothing on Phil’s shoulder, and the kaleidoscope of butterflies in his stomach stirred again, but it had nothing to do with the memory and everything to do with the concern in his voice.  


His feelings, at least, were still as clear as day, and he had Dan back, so did it really matter what he was? Well, okay, it totally did. But they weren’t going to make any more progress tonight, and his mom was probably starting to worry. Still, he couldn’t really make himself forget what he was trying to remember, and it took him hours to get his mind off of it. Actually, it was only once he’d forgotten that he was trying to figure something out at all that it came back to him.  


He was lucky that it was a Friday, because there was no way he’d have been able to do homework that night, not when Dan was right next to him. And even though his mom didn’t ask, he knew that she could tell right away that something had changed, especially when he was yelling about losing in mario kart for the first time in weeks.  


They didn’t bother with doing anything serious, just playing video games and laughing at bad jokes and talking for hours in the treehouse. Just having Dan around made it easier to talk to other people again, and he asked PJ if he wanted to hang out next weekend and answered Louise’s messages from a week ago. He felt bad about it, but he just hadn’t had the strength to have a conversation for a while, though their efforts were appreciated. He’d really missed them.  


Of course, having fun for the first time in weeks meant that time went by way too quickly, and it was two in the morning before he was yawning too much to pretend he wasn’t tired. After all, being threatened at knifepoint and reuniting with your not-quite-imaginary friend was pretty exhausting, and he really did need some rest. Saying goodnight was hard, but at least he could be sure that there was a tomorrow. Phil hit the lightswitch, leaving the fairy lights in the treehouse on, crawled into bed, and was immediately halfway asleep.  


Before he was fully under, in the second before dreaming, it came back to him. The same flash of white hospital walls, the beeping of machinery, the smell of smoke and sweat on his clothes, and a boy being wheeled past him in a creaky hospital bed. All at once, it clicked, and he shot up , wide awake and breathing hard. They had to go back to the hospital. 


	9. Follow Your Heart, Even if it's into a Ditch

It turned out that Dan really didn’t appreciate being woken up at three A.M., especially when Phil realized that it would be a little bit suspicious to stop by the hospital in the middle of the night with no signs of injury and decided they’d have to wait a few hours. He was especially annoyed when Phil insisted that they couldn’t go back to bed, because that would risk sleeping in. Okay, so maybe they didn’t really need to stay up, but Phil had to know if he was right, too agitated to think about anything else, much less fall asleep.  


So they waited until it was officially five in the morning before creeping downstairs, buzzing with energy and impatience the whole time. He was jealous that Dan didn’t have to hop over every loose floorboard or worry about breathing too loud and waking up his mom, at least until he found out she was awake anyway. He didn’t know that, though, until his hand was already on the door knob and Dan tapped him on the shoulder, face pale as he pointed to the other room. His mom was sitting at the kitchen table, sipping coffee and raising an eyebrow.  


“You’re up early,” She commented, and he was relieved that she sounded more amused than anything.  


“Oh yeah, we’re-I’m just going for a... walk. Um, be right back?” He stuttered, knowing that there was no way she missed the “we”, especially with how her eyebrow went up just a little more. Thankfully, she didn’t mention it, just saying something about being glad about him finally leaving the house and to be careful. From the way she said it, it was clear that she knew whatever he was up to was out of the ordinary, and Phil couldn’t decide if it was a good thing that his mom was more concerned about him being involved in supernatural events than drugs.  


Of course, he’d tell her everything eventually, but right then, he was way too amped up to sit down and have a conversation. Besides, if the whole threatened-with-a-knife thing got out, he probably wouldn’t be allowed out of the house until she’d picked it over with the entire school board, and the last thing he needed right now was attention. With a smile that probably looked nothing but nervous, he was out the door, breathing a sigh of relief.  


From there, only a strong, deep rooted laziness kept him from running to the hospital. The certainty he’d felt in the night had faded with the sun, and Phil was half convinced the whole thing had been a dream. He’d even refused to tell Dan why he’d woken him up so early in case it was just his imagination (ha), which did nothing for his mood. Still, however small, there was a chance that he was right, and it was unbearable not to know. His desire not to run was a force to be reckoned with, though, and they arrived at the hospital just a little slower than what was ideal.  


They walked through the doors towards the little reception desk, and it was at that point that Phil realized he absolutely didn’t have a plan. He really should start thinking things out before running in headfirst. All he’d known was that they needed to get to the hospital as fast as possible, and he’d kinda figured everything from there would work itself out. It was just lucky that he wasn’t far from the truth.  


“May I help you?” The elderly woman behind the desk asked, looking up at them-well, him- with a smile, and Phil was suddenly very sure that she used to live down the street. Small town, he thought, pushing down his nerves.  


“Uh, yeah. Is there... is there a Daniel Howell here?” He asked, looking nervously between the woman and Dan. That seemed to be the right thing to say, at least, because her eyes lit up with recognition.  


“Yes. If you’d like to pay a visit, he’s in room 137, on the second floor.” He tried not to look too relieved as he thanked her, walking away as fast as possible before she sensed his fear or something equally ridiculous. Actually finding the room was harder, mostly because Phil was paranoid that he looked suspicious and that every doctor he passed would interrogate him with questions he couldn’t answer. To make things worse, Dan was clearly terrified, gripping at Phil’s shoulder so tight it hurt, and he only got worse as they got closer to their destination.  


_It’s going to be fine, we’re almost there. _He promised, trying his best to be comforting without jerking his sore shoulder away.  
__

__“I know, I know, I just can’t help it. But as soon as you do whatever it is you dragged me here for, I’m gonna leave. Not even through the door, I’ll just float directly through a wall, and you’ll have to find your way out all alone.” He rambled, but at least his hand loosened a little bit.  
_ _

__He was still all nervous energy, coiled like a spring, and Phil tried to ignore how distracting it was when he kept floating up and down faster and faster. When, after what felt like years of hallways and rooms that all looked the same, they actually stepped inside room 137, and all of the tension drained out of him at once.  
_ _

__“Holy shit,” Said Dan, who looked a little like he was about to throw up.  
_ _

__“Yeah,” Phil agreed.  
_ _

__In the hospital bed in front of them was Dan. It was his body, at least, that much was certain from his appearance alone. His face was paler than it should’ve been, and he looked incredibly small without all of the movement and laughter and noise that should’ve been there, but it was him. He was breathing softly, chest rising and falling, and it was so familiar and strange at once that it made Phil’s head spin. He stared. Dan stared. Neither of them could speak for a long, long moment.  
_ _

__“Cerebral hypoxia,” Said a deep voice from behind them. Phil nearly jumped out of his skin, freezing like a deer in headlights before slowly turning around to see who he assumed was a doctor, from the doctor’s clothes he was wearing.  
_ _

__“Uh,” He began when the man said nothing. “What?”  
_ _

__“Cerebral hypoxia. It means a reduced supply of blood to the brain. That’s what set off the coma.”  
_ _

__“Coma?” He squeaked, trying to block out Dan’s hysterical, “Great, a coma is exactly what I needed!” from behind him.  
_ _

__“You didn’t know? From what I’ve heard, he had a drowning accident as a child, and even though they got him here pretty quickly, he still went into a coma. What doesn’t make sense is that he was under for a short enough amount of time that he should have even returned to full brain function, but he just didn’t come back up. His brain is pretty much fine according to our scans, but there haven’t been any signs of recovery.” Phil opened his mouth to say something, couldn’t think of anything, and closed it again.  
_ _

__Sure, he’d remembered, or at least thought he remembered seeing Dan in a hospital bed after the fire, but he’d never stopped to think about why. It felt kind of like getting hit in the face with a pound of bricks. It was a lot for him to process at once, especially with Dan freaking out increasingly loudly behind him. The doctor, at least, didn’t seem disturbed by his silence.  
_ _

__“You seem pretty surprised to hear all of this. Did you know him?”  
_ _

__“I had no idea he was here. We were friends as little kids, and I only just found out.” He was surprised that his mouth was working enough for him to actually respond, even if it was just spitting out half-truths.  
_ _

__“Must’ve been pretty little. He’s been here longer than I’ve had this job, and I’ve been here for a few years now. I’m pretty sure that the only reason they haven’t given up on him yet is because his family keeps insisting that he’ll get better.” Phil nodded along blankly, ignoring Dan’s yells of “fucking fantastic, I actually have a family I can’t remember!” and “I knew there was a reason I didn’t trust hospitals! They’re close to giving up on me! Really?”  
_ _

__“Do you think I could be alone for a little bit? I need some time to think about all this,” He asked, and he must’ve sounded convincingly choked up, because the doctor nodded sympathetically and stepped outside, closing the door.  
_ _

__Once he was gone, Phil took a few clumsy steps forward before collapsing into a shitty plastic chair next to the bed and putting his face in his hands. He waited for Dan to be done yelling, and then waited some more, and then just a little bit more. When, at last, a minute had past between the last burst of flailing and cursing out seemingly everything in existence, he lifted his head. Dan was just... watching himself, looking somewhere between relieved and terrified.  
_ _

“So?” He whispered. “What do you think?” He regretted his choice of words instantly when Dan seemed to be on the verge of another round of panic, hands flying into the air again before he stopped, deflating.  


“Honestly? I don’t know what to think. I just can’t believe that that’s really me. I mean, it’s nice to know that I’m not actually dead, and that I have a family, but...” He didn’t finish, but Phil understood. Now that they knew, what was there left to do? Did knowing even change anything? Would he ever see that family again? He was freaking out enough by himself, and he couldn’t imagine what it was like for Dan.  


As he watched, Dan shifted so he was parallel to his body, standing just a little bit taller than his own form in the bed. Then, ever so slowly, he reached out, arm flat against the sheets, placing his hand into, well, his hand. Of course, it fit perfectly. He stood, frozen for a moment, looking more concentrated with each moment that passed. Then, just barely, in the flash of a second, his pinky finger twitched. His _real _finger. They looked at each other, and all Dan’s anger melted away.  
__

____

“Dude, did you see that? I just made myself move!” He grinned, before turning serious, thinking for a long second. “Wait, do you think I could actually... I don’t know, take myself over again? He said that my brain is working fine and stuff, just that I haven’t woken up.” Phil looked from him and back to his body again, considering it.  


“Well, maybe. I just... Are you sure?” He immediately felt bad about hesitating.  


It was clear that Dan wanted this, to be real again, and he couldn’t take that away from him, not now. But even if it was selfish, Phil couldn’t stop worrying all of the sudden. What if Dan had only talked to him because he was the only one who could listen? What if he didn’t remember anything when he woke up? What if he never woke up at all and never came back, stuck somewhere between alive and dead? What if--  


___“I’ve never been more sure about anything ever. Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve actually gotten to eat pizza? Or anything at all?” He joked, cutting through his thoughts, and Phil managed to almost laugh.  
_ _ _

___“And, hey, who knows? Maybe it won’t work at all, and things will just stay the same, but at least we’ll have tried. And if it does work, then we won’t have to coordinate every high five beforehand.” That did get him to smile, but it didn’t last long when Dan started hovering just above his unconscious body.  
_ _ _

___“Wait, you’re doing it now? Like, right now?”  
_ _ _

___“I don’t see why not. At this point, I mostly just want to get it over with.” All Phil could do was nod for a second, watching as he hovered over himself, hesitating for just a moment. He felt choked up all of the sudden, but he still managed to talk somehow.  
_ _ _

___“You’ll stay with me, right? No matter what happens?” He asked, not bothering to be embarrassed. There was so much happening all at once, and he needed whatever reassurance he could get that he wasn’t going to drop out of his life again. Dan didn’t seem to mind though, just giving him a smile that showed he was just as uncertain as Phil was, but hopeful.  
_ _ _

___“Of course. I promise I’ll come back.” Once again, he offered his little finger, and Phil took it, feeling his chest ache. Dan’s eyes looked just a little watery, and he sniffled. Then, hesitating, he opened his mouth, face a little red.  
_ _ _

___“Phil, I...” It came out rushed and breathless, like he was trying to talk before he lost the nerve, and something about it made Phil breathe a little faster. He said nothing for a long moment, looking torn. Time seemed frozen, stuck on that little hospital room with its whirring machines and bated breath. Before he could think, Dan leaned forward and kissed him.  
_ _ _

___It lasted only a second, their lips just barely touching before Dan moved away again, lightning-quick and too fast for Phil to think, over the bed once more.  
_ _ _

___“I’ll see you on the other side.” Dan said, smiling sadly, and he was gone.  
_ _ _

___“Wait-” Phil started, but it was too late. He was left all alone in the hospital room with nothing but a pounding heart and a promise on his lips._ _ _


	10. Every Kiss Begins With Collision

The worst part was the waiting. First, Phil waited in the hospital for hours, until the staff started looking at him funny and he had no choice but to leave. Then, he waited at his house, unable to focus on his mindless scrolling, and, more importantly, his math homework. He answered texts and poked at the lasagna his mom made and waited.  


Saturday turned into Sunday, Sunday turned into Monday, and Monday into Tuesday, and you get the point. Each day that passed seemed like defeat. If Dan wasn’t back by then, would he ever be? It was torture like nothing else to listen to his history teacher drone on and on about some ancient war when he had no idea if he’d ever see his best friend again. Before, he’d been sure he wouldn’t, but this was worse. There was nothing to do but wait, and it was driving him crazy.  


And then there was the kiss. He couldn’t stop his heart from speeding up just a little whenever he thought about it, and there were a few times when he’d been given funny looks for touching his lips in public, trying to convince himself it was real. Not hoping was impossible. Dan had kissed him. If that didn’t mean that his feelings were returned, then what did? Marriage? He cut that train of thought short, not liking the way it made his heart race all over again.  


But on the other hand, even if Dan did feel the same way, then what good would it do if they never saw each other again? He was constantly torn between thrilled and heartbroken, and pretending like everything was normal when every day was just one more defeat was the hardest thing he’d ever done.  


Still, some things were better, now that he wasn’t too in his own head not to notice it. He was talking to PJ and Louise again, his mom wasn’t worrying over him anymore, and his classmates treating him like a normal person again. Well, except for Brado, Chadley, and Trevon, who looked terrified at the sight of him and made excuses to leave every time he entered a room, which was incredibly satisfying.  


But even their obvious discomfort wasn’t enough to keep him occupied for long. This time, the lights of the treehouse stayed off, and he pulled his blinds tightly shut so he wouldn’t have to see them. By three weeks of the same, he had given up.  


He walked home from school just like usual on Thursday, wishing that his backpack was lighter. It was almost summer, and having to lug what felt like a bag of bricks to and from school in the heat wasn’t exactly fun. Especially when he had to do it alone, but he was determined not to think about that. Naturally, he was too busy not thinking about Dan that he didn’t even notice the sound of someone running directly at him for a while. When he did, Phil almost didn’t believe his eyes.  


Dan was sprinting towards him at maximum speed. This was unusual not only because of his previous absence and general aversion to any exercise ever, but also because of the way his feet hit the earth with each step. Phil didn’t have time to think anything else besides a bunch of exclamation points, though, because he was really moving very fast.  


“Dan!” He yelled, taking one step in his direction, and then another, until he was also running, not caring that he was probably trampling someone’s lawn. It didn’t feel real; the wind in his hair, the ground beneath his feet, Dan, just a few feet away from him. It was all too good to be true.  


Then they slammed into each other at full force, apparently simultaneously forgetting how to stop running, and it was definitely real. The hard thump of his back against the dirt was proof of that, along with the breath shoved out of him and Dan’s very solid chin slamming into his shoulder. Phil had never cared less. He was laughing uncontrollably, hugging back as hard as he could, and everything felt golden and perfect and so, so real. When Dan pulled back enough to smile down at him, grass in his hair, he was too happy to be surprised. And when, somehow, they ended up kissing, it didn’t feel anything but right.  


“This,” Dan whispered when they pulled apart, like talking too loud would tear them apart again, “This isn’t weird, right? It’s okay?” He gestured to where his other hand was still cupping Phil’s cheek, looking hopeful and unsure, and Phil’s heart ached with emotion.  


He couldn’t help but laugh, nodding. It was just so funny that Dan had all the same ridiculous worries he did, about messing things up and ruining their friendship. Neither of them had to worry anymore. All he could do was kiss him again, trying to prove just how okay this was. Dan’s hands stayed on his face, and he knew it was a reassurance for both of them that this was happening, that it was real.  


They stayed like that, lying on the grass, kissing and laughing and _happy _, for a long time, but Phil didn’t worry. The world could wait for them.__

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this fic! If you did, all comments are very much appreciated. Thanks for reading! :D


	11. Song

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> My amazing, incredible, talented friend Jena actually wrote a song based off of this fic! It's literally the most amazing thing anyone has ever done for me, so I wanted to share it with y'all, along with an explanation of which times in the song correlate with different points in the story.

[Here's the link to the song!](https://drive.google.com/file/d/1jZTCr9a2wIwCrlz8BEW8DcSeqPoOASh2/view?ts=5b098e1c)

Now here's what times correlate with what parts/chapters. 

0-42 seconds is chapter one  
42-1:15 is first part of chapter two  
1:15 starts building towards the crash at the end of chapter two, 2:03 is the crash itself  
2:08-2:47 is the beginning of chapter three, specifically his dad's funeral  
2:48-3:14 is Dan and Phil growing up, until the time most of the story takes place  
3:14-3:54 is the very end of chapter three, starting with the rain, and goes about 3/4 of the way into chapter four  
3:55-4:57 starts with what is lovingly called the "white boy theme" and goes all the way through to the fire and the end of chapter five  
4:57-5:27 is the hospital part at the beginning of chapter six  
5:27-5:59 is Phil going back to school, up until Dan disappears  
5:59-7:05 is Phil being sad, but mostly him learning about his granmother's, and his, abilities in the first half of chapter seven  
7:05-7:47 is "white boy theme: part 2" and Dan coming to the rescue at the end of chapter 7

7:47-8:32 is them being reunited, basically the end of the story.

This song is really incredibly and works so well with this story, and I hope you guys enjoy it just as much as I have! Let me know what you think, and I'll pass it along to my friend for all her incredibly hard work! :^D

Also, here's a link to the playlist of songs that really influenced/reminded me of this story! [Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/user/writing-cactus/playlist/5EKgEpFiH8zOzQYzqJhUz5). The songs that are very, very important to this story are Only If For A Night by Florence and the Machine, Skeleton Song by Kate Nash, and Ribs by Lorde.


End file.
